Another Tale To Be Told
by DragonViper2.0
Summary: Sansa gets rescued from her cage by a foreign champion who reunites her with a certain dog and her sister a must leave Westeros. Does Gregor get tamed? Daenary's meets the rulers of Asshai. Stranger becomes a looming a body on earth as a agent of R'hllor. Many OCs, AU Rated T soon M. Various POVs that will be brought together. Mainly SanSan but there are others.
1. The Beginning

**AN: Yes, I have returned after such a long absence! But I couldn't stop myself! This is my retelling of GRR Martin's world and characters. I will change events and turnouts, change character deaths, and bring in exciting new characters that no one ever expected! Character appearances will probably match the show more than the book, as I have watched both current seasons (anxiously waiting for S3!) and still currently reading book two. So...enjoy! **

**Another Tale To Be Told**

**Chapter One**

She had not moved from the same location in a number of days, only on the occasion of force to rise to either use the chamber pot or face the dreaded king and his false "knights" once more, either in private, or at court with a silent audience. The double luxurious bed she lay upon with it's dark oak frame with lions and stags carved into the head and foot board and painted Lannister gold smelled more of sweat and other natural bodily odours than the gentle, sweet lavender scents the silks and linens were weekly washed in. Her handmaidens no longer changed and washed her linens every day any more for they had other duties with shifts tending to the Lady Margaery. Her pale slender arms were covered in the deep purple and dark green bruises from the metal covered hands of Ser Meryn at the order of the Boy King that ruled all the Seven Kingdoms, the Boy King she was supposed to marry and bare him many sons and daughters with "beautiful blonde hair" she had once said, but he was no true Baratheon and the proof was there all too see a top his twisted head except she felt no love for him, only hatred and distaste, the very thought of him burned to her to the core and his name always left a rotten taste on her pink tongue, Joffery...Joffery...Joffery the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and Sansa Stark wanted him dead more than anything else this world.

Sansa lay on her left side in the foetal position; it made her feel safer, as if she body could protect itself from the cruelty that lay in wait outside her chamber doors. Her flowing fiery red locks of the Tully's that once shone with a natural radiance that made most females envious was all swooped over her shoulder twisted and knotted as she clutched it tight while staring out of the large window and spying on the night sky, the aches from the marks on her flesh worsened with contact, even the smooth light silk blankets draped over her caused a protest, but she tried hard to ignore it or at least focus on other things. But sometimes it was too great and nothing had the power to distract her from the pain. For instance this day was one of the worse, as it was Sansa's sixteenth Name Day, and for it, the vile King Joffery had her publicly beaten and humiliated in front of the entire court once more. First they hit her and kicked her, then brutally stripped her while she was begging on her knees as they beat her again, but Joffery found pleasure in Sansa's desperate pleas for compassion and could only bellow to the court in response, "there will be no mercy for the tainted blood of a traitor!" Neither Tyrion nor Sandor was there to save her this time, or at least soften the blow of the mental and physical torture. Tyrion could not save her as he no longer held the power of being the King's Hand and now only had just as much power in the blasted city as she did. Sandor could not protect her either, or drown her in his stained white cloak of the kingsguard to shield her modesty as he was no longer here in King's Landing, and Sansa had no knowledge of where he was other than the North, and that he hadn't been seen since he deserted his duties at the Mud Gate fighting off the invading charge of Stannic Baratheon which to Sansa's dismay was some time ago and she had no clear thought of time of how long ago he left nor when she had been relieved of her own duties of becoming the unwilling bride of King Joffery as another took her place, Margaery Tyrell whose house gathered in arms with the forces of Tywin Lannister and drove the invaders back into the sea! The kind, gentle Margaey with an ever revealing neckline had quickly won the hearts of the populace in King Landing as well as House Tyrell as not only did they help win the war against Stannis, but also beat the war of famine on the streets. However, even though Joffery's heart and betrothal belongs another Sansa's hope and happiness of freedom was soon cut short as she discovered that Joffery does not release play things, and Sansa, was his favourite pretty little play thing.

Joffery was so benevolent with Margaery, so gentle and sweet the way a young prince should, the way they were described in the songs and the way he was with Sansa before the horrific incident with the direwolves and Micah the butcher's boy on the journey south when her honourable Lord Father Eddard Stark was still alive and her sister Arya was around to irritate her temper and grate her nerves with her boyish misbehaving and wildish attitude. Even to that day Sansa had not received any word on her younger sister since her disappearance the day their father was murder on the Great Sept of Baelor. The ever-so frightened Sansa found herself wishing more often than not her sister was trapped here in this little cage with her so she wasn't alone, or be absolutely free together back home in keep of Winterfell with Robb, the King of the North, her mother, Catelyn Tully, and her little brothers crippled Bran and baby Rickon and even Jon Snow who was off at the Wall, living all kinds of crazy adventures and protecting the realm from the monsters kept hidden on the other side of the great ancient Wall. To all Seven Hells burn them all for she was jealous of all of them, even her deceased Lord Father whose rotting dead pale gaze no longer cursed her from the spikes since Tyrion had his body and head returned home to be buried within the dark crypts underneath Winterfell many months before The Battle of Blackwater Bay and Sansa so wish she was buried deep within those stone walls instead of being cooped here, at least than she will be in Winterfell, close to her great family and her Lord Father always in sight of her stone eyes.

Sansa's large vivid blue eyes were always half lidded and blood shot from fierce tears these days, and her lids suddenly began to sting and grow heavy, even though the only time she moved today was to her Name Day "celebration" while being "escorted" to and fro by heartless Ser Meryn Trant and cowardly, but cruel Ser Boros Blount. The young Stark girl closed her eyes and thought of her true home in the chilling North while hoping to receive the bliss of dreamless sleep, as dreams only brought her nightmares of even more malice and torment. When sleep finally gave her it's sweet embrace after ten long minutes she was granted neither of what she hoped for, or what she feared. Instead, she was finally shown mercy by the Gods, Old and New by giving her the chance to relive a memory from her past in full detail down to the last pebble. Sadly to her displeasure it was still in Kings Landing, but it was a happy memory as did not involve the King, the Queen Regent, Lord Petyr Baelish, Maester Pycelle, Lord Tywin nor any of the Kingsguard. Yet it was also deeply saddening as well as frightening as it was the last time she had seen Sandor Clegane, one of the very few in these walls she held even a shed of trust with, she had begun to see him as a protector, maybe even a friend in that forsaken place after he stopped her from pushing Joffery to his death, wiped the blood from her split lip after numerous of armoured backhands from Ser Meryn by her father's head as well as giving her countless advice on surviving in the snake pit that was court, even though he oft intentionally intimidated her and bullied her with words on the sweetness of killing and how even her father, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell enjoyed the sin of murder.

_I rushed down the extensive dim hallways with vast and sinister shadows that danced along the cold stone walls due to the flame torches that were mounted to the walls by thick black iron rings. My velvet slippers making too much sound for comfort along the polished marble, but there was no other sound to be heard and no one else to be seen, and for that, I was glad. I only opened the heavy wooden door as much as I needed to in order to slip through quietly before hastily closing it and latching the door with the provided iron for such tasks at both top and bottom. _

_My breathing was so heavy and uneven that only when I had stopped did I notice that my lungs burned, my chest pulsing so heavily I thought my ribs would crack and whenever I sucked in more air it was like fanning a flame as it only caused my lungs more agony. My chambers were dark except for one convenient lantern upon my writing desk that was mysteriously burning three candles. 'Who lit that?' I pondered, but it was only in my mind for a split second before a saw a familiar figure on my bedside table in the faint distant glow from the lantern, I rushed to the lantern to salvage it, the metal handle had grown quite warm from the flame but my adrenaline had control over me so I felt little to nothing but I still took cautious, delicate steps to a littered table that was opposite to where the lantern had previously resided. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the small shape again, only now with more light could I distinguish it to be the very same doll my admirable Lord Father had given me one morning while we broke our fast, but I had claimed to be too old for dolls and other such childish things and thus I rudely rejected my father's gift, or what could arguably be a bribe. Although I still reluctantly took the juvenile play thing too my chambers after the morning meal_, a_fter my father failed _to _discard of it as implied. I picked it up and rolled it over in my hands, feeling the soft cotton fabric with my tiny meagre fingers but then all of a sudden my still beating heart nearly escaped up my throat and with a sharp gasp and turn when an unexpected sound was heard, or rather a voice, a deep croaky, raspy but familiar voice that still shocked me. "The lady started to panic..."_

_The culprit of breaking the silence was none other than Sandor Clegane, sitting on the end of my bed with his back to the door_;_ only now did I notice the strong_,_ coppery stench of blood, dry wine and salty sweat_. _I couldn't help but wonder__-__ how did I not notice him or the smell before? 'That answers the lamp question.' I blurted out what was he doing here and he responded by explaining that he was leaving, leaving to a place that wasn't burning. We conversed; all the while he took frequent swigs from a flagon and never looked in my direction. Not until he suddenly had me on my back on the bed and was holding a knife to my throat and covering my mouth with his large rough hand to muffle my cries, I was visibly quivering but he did nothing to ease my fear this time. His smell only strengthened and burned my nose, his heated breathe stunk of a mixture of ale and red wines and I could see blood smeared on the hand he used to cover my mouth, almost suffocating me "if you scream...I'll kill you," his words sounded more drunken than before, I feared for my life and didn't know what to expect...but he removed his filthy hand from my face just as jade light filled momentarily filled the room as something was shot into sky outside. He hissed and kept his eyes tightly shut until it passed and when the only light in the room again came from the flickering flames in the lantern. _

_I was staring up at him, my blue eyes bulging with fear, 'is he...is he going to kill me?' the dreadful question kept spinning round and round in my head. He asked me if I wanted to know who was winning the battle outside, I only gave him a shaky nod and an almost silent yes, with that he responded with a snicker, "I only know who lost...me__.__" How drunk had he gotten in the last two minutes? For now he seemed almost a completely different man. I could not say anything in return, I was too frightened, the knife at my throat shook and wavered and for a moment I thought he was taking it away as it drooped, but I was wrong, after he took a deep gulp he straightened the blade against my slender neck, the blade was still warm from battle and wet in places with another's blood. "Little bird..." he managed to could finally pronounce, he blinked several times and burped with his mouth closed before continuing, "sing me a song, my little bird, the song you promised me," I only shook my head, I couldn't even remember promising him a song, when did I promise that? Maybe it was during a time of stress or under the influence of milk of the poppy that Maester Pycelle often gave me to help me sleep and dull the pain from the beatings. _

"_I can't!" he was practically sitting on top of me, it was the first time anyone had been this close to me on a bed, and it made my thoughts wonder to other, more pleasant fantasises. "Men are dying out there and you want me to sing to you?" The sky outside my window lit up with jade once more, but this time he did not hiss, he did not close his eyes till it had passed, he only stared into my own eyes intently, his left eye only half lidded as it always was due his severe scar__.__, I just wanted to stroke them. To feel the rough, uneven skin under my fingertips but at the same time his scars terrified me, though less than they did back when I first saw them at Winterfell all those years ago. The knife disappeared from my throat and it fell beside me noiselessly.__"I'm leaving," he said again, as if he couldn't remember telling me before, but what he said next was different__.__ "I can keep you safe. They all fear me. I swear...no one will hurt you again little bird, or I will kill them," he lifted my back from the bed to pull me close_._ He was forcing me to sit up now_,_ my face now even closer to his_,_ and once again my mind wondered_..._ did he kiss me? I didn't know if he really kissed me or if it was just part of the fantasy running through my head, but when I looked at him he gave no sign to an answer which only caused me blink, but he took offence. _

"_Still can't bear to look can you!" and he shoved me back down on to the bed, the knife back at my throat, "little bird..." he tsked, "Florian and Jonquil you said, sing it to me, now, sing little bird, sing...for your little life" I gave him half of what he wanted, I sang to him but not the song he asked for, not that he noticed in his drunken state, I couldn't sing that particular song as I couldn't remember it. All the songs I knew and learned growing up had vanished, but one finally sprang to mind after Sandor held the knife closer and turned the blade at a menacingly slow pace against my gooseflesh prickled skin. My voice was thin and frail, it trembled in my ears_;_ what a feeble attempt. I had hoped for better but I knew I couldn't muster anything more in such circumstances. When my voice trailed off to silence he removed the blade from my throat which plummeted to the floor with a tedious thud. He released his grip of me but never moved from where he was above me_._ I could now move my hands, and my left hand seemed to have a mind of its own when it found its way to his cheek, the destroyed, scarred cheek_._ I felt him flinch and retreat slightly but my hand stayed where it was. I could feel them under my fingers, the mass of folds of charred scarred flesh with a pinkness that was invisible in the night. The surface of his scarred side was rough and irregular just like I imagined_;_ the little glowing light we had from the lantern dimly lit the a disfigurement in an ominous and cruel fashion_._ "Little bird..." I felt moisture on his cheeks, two different kinds; one was thick and sticky while the other was light and delicate like water_._ Was he crying? "You must come with me_._" Once again he repeated what he said earlier; "I will keep you safe..."_

_He rose from the bed and I sat up again and watched him, he made his way around the bed but before he could get too far I asked, "You will not hurt me?" _

_He turned, removed his white cloak of the kingsguard which was stained grey with dust, soot and blood and placed it around my shoulders, "aye Little Bird, I won't hurt you..."_

The dream faded and Sansa woke to find it was still dark outside but slowly turning a lighter shade of grey. The food that had been placed on her nightstand some time yesterday, she wasn't quite sure when, was still there and had grown stone cold as she had left most of the honey roasted gammon with various fruits and vegetables. In her recent state of depression, she had already lost stone in weight as she no longer had much of an appetite, plus she liked the idea of starving to death as it finally meant an end to her caged life as a prisoner to the Lannisters. She began to think on her dream, and thought of everything that had happened since Sandor had left Kings Landing without her. "Why did I refuse?" she whispered to herself, her cheeks felt tight as if they had just dried from being wet, she touched her cheeks felt the familiar sensation of dry tears plus the feeling of puffy eyes. What had she cried for? Her regret? For Sandor? Did she miss freedom? Or him?

Sansa returned to lying in the foetal position on her side, once again staring out the window. She closed her eyes slowly but when she did they suddenly snapped open again and sat upright at a realisation. There in the darkness she could see a dark figure on the end of her bed, not sitting like Sandor did in her dream, but was balancing on the wooden foot board in a type of crouch, knees bent and sticking outwards, one hand resting on their knee and the other gripping the wood between their feet. "Wh...whu...wh-who a-are you?"


	2. Natha's Story

**A/N: There are mistakes in the previous chapter and no doubt in this one, so is there anyone who would like to volunteer to be a Beta-reader for this story would be much appreciated, thank you, say so through a review! I apologise for the lack of major paragraphs in this chapter like in the previous, but I wanted to get this out there for you guys and this chapter was admittedly less planned for so took too long to write, hopefully chapters won't be so far apart! **

**Chapter 2**

_20 years eariler..._

The morning's sunshine was the source of a pleasant heat in the Free City of Braavos, the humidity was just right for people to enjoy yet another day of sunshine, just like every other day. Living on one of the small islands that were all connected by bridges and walkways, was a nine year old girl with green eyes and long, beautiful black tresses of hair that were more often than not kept in a messy bun to help keep her cool. She was playing on the shore line with a number of friends, Oba, a short, chubby young boy who was only two years her junior, whose olive tone matched hers but his hair was a fiery red kept short, he was a nervous boy who struggled to speak whenever confronted especially by an adult. There Abel and Lan, a pair of mischievous twins four years her senior, both the boys had dark hair and chocolate eyes, their skin darker than Oba's and were much taller as they seemed to take more after their blacksmith of a father than the seamstress of a mother. Finally there was Jian'Ju'an, a wide eyed girl whose pretty face was cursed with a profound nose and a quick temper whose hair was long and black that trailed the floor after her as she ran, gathering up wet sand and muck so her mother always made her tie up in the same style as the other girl.

"Natha! Natha!" squealed Jian'Ju'an as Natha splashed the cool sea water at her friend of the same age, the two girls giggled as they played in the salty water. Oba, the youngest of the group sat upon the shore playing with pebbles and shells as the tide rode in and out, the twins came running along the beach, Abel clutching something skinny in his left hand, "oi!" they called to the small group, the girls paused splashing the water to stare at the twins, Oba didn't glance up from his pebbles and shells until the twin boys had come to a stop beside him, his eyes squinting because of the sun.

"What is it now?" Natha whined as the girls paddled out of the ocean and onto the beach with the boys of the small group. The twins were always discovering something, something that led to crazy adventures that always led to them getting into trouble one way or another. The boys glanced at each other, both with carrying that defiant grin that seemed to be their trademark. Abel held out his arm and unfolded his fingers to reveal an iron key, Natha only blinked at what she saw, "what are we supposed to do with this?" she queried, feeling sceptical towards what treasure they thought they have found.

"We...are going to see if Wendrella is really a witch!" Lan exclaimed, throwing his toned arms up in the air before waving them to motion sneaking in to someone's home, discovery and then a what he portrayed to be a gruesome conclusion with an invisible sword. Wendrella had been the island's healer for over ten years but seemed not to age past thirty-five years, people say she is from Asshai, where magic is apparently common. "And then! We are going to mess with her!"

That caused Natha to quirk a dark brow, "mess with her? How exactly?" she may be young, but she had an intelligence that matched the combined brains of the twins. Natha watched Lan most all, who made her feel special, he was still incredibly young, and obviously still growing but Natha could guess what he would look like when they came of age. He was already large for his age, but the idea of him growing much taller, broader and stronger made Natha swoon. Only Jian'Ju'an knew of Natha's crush on Lan, and thankfully both the twins and Oba were so oblivious to that fact like typical boys so their friendship would never grow weird unless Jian'Ju'an or her own lips betrayed her.

Lan chuckled but Abel almost pouted, Lan was the one that spoke, once again waving his arms as he habitually spoke with motion and flamboyancy, "Mess up the labels! Shave her animals bald! Steal a spell book! I don't know! I'm sure we will think of something when we find it!" Lan's accent was as thick as porridge, just like Abel and the rest of them. He suddenly pointed his long finger off to the left, "too the witch!" he called and began to charge off like some kind of knight from the songs. Abel helped Oba to his feet and they went after him walking in a similar manner, Natha could only look to her close friend or returned the strange stare with a shrug, "must be a boy thing," she bantered which caused both of the young girls to laugh as they linked arms and jogged after their male companions, holding their thin cotton dresses in hand as they ran barefooted across the damp sand.

_1 week later..._

Lying in the darkness young Natha woke with a fright and sweat covered brow, her father asleep in the corner with his common steal sword resting on his lap, hand on hilt. Natha winced and cursed with words she shouldn't as her head throbbed and ached with a pain that only grew more potent with movement. The little light in the room from the lit candles were blurred and extremely bright through her eyes, her eyes hurt as if there was glass within them and she hissed at the burning light and covered her face with the blankets. Her father jerked awake at the sudden noise, sword in hand but it didn't take long before it was leaning against the wall and he was on his knees beside her, a bony hand on her head. "Natha?" he whispered, his voice was shaky, no doubt he had been crying while his only child and family had been fighting for her life after a freak accident while in company with friends, the only one of the group to be hurt but when the children were questioned as to how their friend was hurt after three solid days of sleep none of them could remember what had happened.

The blanket edged down slightly as she uncovered one eye to look at her father Wilken, a simple man with thin, wispy grey hair and a hollow, leather-like face that made him seem so much older than his thirty-five years. The loss of his wife and four of his five children had stressed him and caused grief beyond belief, he had just wanted to die since his fifth almost died with the rest, but before he could take his life the three year old Natha had woken as the gods granted him her at least. "Papee?" Natha breathed out, her voice was croaky and rough, it hurt her throat to speak which made her think back to the fire that killed her family all those years ago, she had felt this same pain in her throat and chest as she breathed and attempted speech since she had inhaled thick black smoke that nearly destroyed her lungs and took her life. But this accident that had put her in a week coma was not a fire, "the light...it burns," She was speaking incredibly slowly in a desperate attempt to lessen the pain in her throat, she watched as Wilken rose to his feet and quickly shuffled on weedy legs to blow out the candles that was stinging his daughter's eyes.

What little light had faintly lit the small bedroom had suddenly grown to complete darkness when the candles were blown out. There was a loud inhuman cry coming from the bed, Wilken found that he could not move for he was frozen still with fear, there was the sounds of thrashing and beastly breathing before a crash and splintering sound of breaking glass and wood, the moonlight and lit buildings around them brought light back into the room when the wooden shutters were smashed to pieces. Wilken blinked, his fear no more when everything had grown quiet and he could finally see, his daughter, his only remaining Natha was gone. Her bedding and pillows were all torn and ripped and there were feathers from the mattress and pillows everywhere, his gaze snapped towards the window, glass and wood littered the simple panelled floor so he rushed to the window, sharp, broken glass tearing at his thin shoes. Around the window on the glass was blood, no doubt from where she had been cut. Wilken leaned outside the window and shouted "Natha!" so many times at the top of his voice, ignoring the shards of glass and large wood splinters that wounded him, as well as protesting neighbours.

_Seven years later..._

Natha was finally returning home to freedom, friends and her father after so many years of imprisonment in a special ward of the small prison for the insane. Natha was so happy that she wouldn't have to hear the manic cries of the mad anymore in reality, but she knew that they would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. Natha had what little belongings she had in a small, filthy bag but she had no clue what material it was, just how she had no idea what day it was, how much time had gone by or how old she was. All she knew was that she had been here for a very long time because she had hurt people; she had torn them apart with her bare hands and laughed loudly like a demon beast from the hells. They would have executed her if she had not woken from the nightmare not remembering what she had done, or why she was covered and surrounded by blood and corpses.

Before they had locked her up she had spent three days strapped to her bed constantly being watched by more than one person at a time, all armed and trained. In that three days it became apparent to all those around what had happened to such an innocent little girl...she had been possessed by an evil demon. So, instead of killing her they put her in a place where she will not hurt anyone. They had tried so many tactics to free her from the demon, like beating it out of her, religious chants plus foreign chants from highly acclaimed sorcerers from Qarth and even a priestess from Asshai but none could find the demon within her, and told Natha's captors that the incident that she had forgotten was probably still there in her subconscious and had eaten most of the girl's sense and sanity causing her to develop this second, brutal ego.

But as the years passed the ego seemed to affect her less until soon it just did not appear any longer, and for one whole year she was like that before they had a vote to release her.

A teenage Natha was walking down the aisle between the cells, the mad men and women tried to grab at her through the small gaps between the bars on the small windows on their heavy wooden cell doors. She either ducked or dodged the harsh clawing hands as they came at her, but unfortunately she couldn't dodge the sticky phlegm and spit that hit her cheek after it shot from a toothless mouth of a man known as Hermish the Killer Spitter. She tried so hard to ignore their tormented shouts, curses and threats that were aimed at her she hurried forward and a guard whose body was protected by a lightweight armour opened another large door to let her through, the guard that was escorting her whispered in the ear of the other which caused both to glare that stare of authority back at the thrashing arms of the mad while Natha wiped the gunk from her cheek with her sleeve in desperation, "don't worry, hopefully you won't have to get that again," voiced her escort who handed her a pale cotton napkin which she gratefully took and rubbed away what remained on her cheek and the green lumps on her sleeve.

"Thank you," she said as she tried to hand it back as they continued down another hallway and exited the building.

He shook his head and waved his hand, "keep it," he scanned the area, his gaze lingering on the carts heading towards the back door off to the right and the a pack of dogs being trained as sniffers and guard dogs off to the left before turning it to the village a mile down the dusty road before them. Natha was expecting her father to meet her here, but he had failed to show and when she stared up to her escort guard with worry he answered her question before she could speak it, "your father never returned our letters about your release. We were trying to contact him for over a month, but we got no word from him. So, I and another went to investigate..." his voice trailed off to silence, his hands clasping one another by his thighs, a light sound of clanking metal as his fingers tapped each other, he couldn't finish his story, but instead said with a sigh, "let me walk you home, please," he urged, Natha could only blink and consent and to her surprise he put his arm to her which she also accepted.

The walk back to the village was a quiet and uneventful one, her escort had to more than half his stride in order to match hers as they strolled. Natha kept stealing glances at his face; he was so much bigger than she was, in height and width. He had the physique of a warrior and his face...his face seemed so familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it which caused her to look more. However he didn't notice, as he was constantly watching the way forward with a hand on pommel in case anything should occur. Within half an hour they reached the village and got to Natha's small house with a thatch roof, her escort showed her inside and to her dismay the furniture in the home was covered with dust and muck from disuse and neglect, her eyes began to swell, "what...where's my father?"

He ushered her inside further and closed the door, he opened the shutters in the windows to let in light which allowed for little life back into the room. "The reason why your father never answered us is because he's...he's dead Natha," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but she could only push it off forcefully and stare at him with tear filled eyes and an angry expression, she began to slap him but he just stood there and took it before gripping her arms as they nearly went to hit his face. "Calm down! Or I'll have to take you back which is _not_ something I want to do to an old friend!"

Wilken, a basic, sombre fisherman with more experience on his shoulders than most, Natha's only relative, only hope...was gone and for reasons still unknown to her.

She stopped her hammering and inaudible ranting and just gawked at him, her cheeks streaked with rigorous tears, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. "Wha...? What?" her head began to spin, it was becoming too much for her being told all this at once when for seven years you get told nothing but the fact the pain will destroy your evil. "Who are you?" she finally asked, she thought he looked familiar, but she wanted to know what had happened to her father also, so many questions swarming in her head about him and Wilken, "why is my Papee dead?"

He tried to swallow a lump in his throat, he was growing nervous but he still answered her questions truthfully but slowly, "Natha, it's me...Lan, do you remember me?" his grip on her arms loosened and wrapped around her in a comforting hug before he let go entirely, "your father, he...he drowned when working. They reckon he jumped," he was staring down at her with those dark chocolate eyes, regret, concern and worry all over them. Natha's hand went straight to her mouth at the news, the tears were flowing more rapidly now and her face became ugly and distraught as she violently cried for her lost Papee. Lan pulled her to his chest, a large hand rubbing her head and the other her back as she cried, he caught words like 'why?' and 'how?' from her muffled weeping. He didn't want to tell her so she wouldn't be even more hurt but he had too, he had to ignore his conscience and tell her, "it was three years ago, he was working on the boats and they say he jumped down into the nets when everyone else had gone for some lunch. He had grown so depressed and helpless since you were gone; the other fishermen told me they could hear him cry to himself about losing everyone he loves-"

"But I'm still here..." she sobbed, he didn't continue his inform, instead he only comforted her there and kept her company till she fell asleep.

Over the following weeks he had helped her get the place cleaned up and sorted out so it was liveable for his old friend. When the angst had died down from the day of her return she asked Lan how did not know her father had died until only recently, which he responded with "Wilken never spoke to us after you were locked up, he ignored us whenever we tried to talk to him. In fact he ignored most, he spent most of the time hiding here unless he was working or desperately needed something like food or water."

More time had passed and whenever Lan was not at work he'd be at Natha's home until it grew too late and he went home to sleep. The pair had grown so close that after work Lan had brought some flowers from the village market, making it back to Natha's as she was finishing up dinner as always and on the way there he trying to figure out how to come clean about the way he felt for her despite everything. People began to push past him, rushing to get somewhere he didn't know. So before he headed to Natha's he followed the crowd which lead him to a man standing on a cart preaching to the crowd who were cheering in response. "She's evil I tell you! She doesn't belong here! She deserves nothing more than to be strung up! Let the crows have her! Let the beasts have her!" Lan was shaking his head as he listened as his mouth gaped. He pushed back through the crowd, his thoughts on Natha; he had to get there before this mob! Had to!

The door to the house burst wide open, the smells of sweet stew filling the home from a metal pot in the kitchen hearth. Lan leaning on the frame panting, somewhere along the way he had dropped the flowers; he stalked into the house bellowing for his old friend. He received no answer from anywhere in the house, he ran his hands through his hair in desperation, "no...no...no," they already had her. A hand touched his arm and made him jump, his hand had gone straight to his hilt but he sighed with great relief when he saw the concerned face of Natha, "I thought they got you," he breathed out and pulled her to him.

"No, it's not me he was talking about. I saw you run from the crowd, I tried to call you but I don't think you heard," she managed to get free from his embrace, "it's Wendrella, we have to go warn her," Natha pulled on his arm, he could feel her grip through his light armour.

"Wendrella? You can't want to save her, she's reason you..." he stopped mid sentence which caused Natha to raise a brow, "I just don't think we should go saving her. She's caused so much pain for you, maybe...maybe she deserves to die."

Natha shook her head and narrowed her eyes at his words, how could he say that? "You don't wish death on anyone Lan, you of all people should know that!" Natha turned to leave, as stubborn as a woman on a mission could ever be, she stopped and looked over her shoulder and spoke with heat, "hurry up if you're going to help, but I'm going with or without you!" with that she marched off again on her little legs as she only stood at five foot one. Lan grunted in protest but followed in pursuit not wanting to leave her all alone to do such a task in case she was to run into trouble. Lan quickly caught up with her and Natha started talking as soon as he did, "she's innocent, that man went to her yesterday for some medicine for a banged foot, one that you're not supposed to drink with wine. But I saw him at the tavern last night drinking merrily like everything was all dandy! And this morning he was there complaining how his foot has got infected and he'll probably have to lose it. So he's blaming Wendrella, saying she cursed him with black magic. But it's entirely his fault, but he's made everyone believe she's evil! We have to help her," she speaking with her hands as well as her mouth, her hands motioning around that only exaggerated her words.

The village was small, and it didn't take them long to reach Wendrella's home near the coast just outside the village. It may have been Natha's idea to go warn Wendrella but it Lan who banged fiercely on the door. The door was painted a warm green with gold vines and ivy leaves painted vertically on the wood. The house itself was a medium sized two story cottage with a slated roof, there numerous plants growing up the stone cottage and around in vast quantities. The smell of all the flowers was as vibrant as their colours, reds, yellows, pinks, blues, greens, oranges, whites and every other colour Natha could not remember till now. The small door opened slowly and only a crack, "whose there?" came a rusted, cackle of a voice, dull grey eyes peered at them through the gap, "oh you two aye? Come to break more variables have you?"

"That was an accident ma'am, we didn't mean to drop them. We've come to warn you..." voice Lan, Natha's head snapped up in his direction, a confused look upon her face. He remembers what happened all those years ago.

"Warn me? Warn me of what?" the lady hissed as she continued to stare at them, she was growing wary so the already small gap in the door got smaller. But Lan just impatiently pushed open the door, suddenly knocking Wendrella out of the way while telling her that the pair did not have time for such commotion. Lan entered the house and scanned the room quickly, it was as you'd except from a both a healer and a witch, but this woman happened to be both. They were opened up to a large but unkempt room, with a big table in the centre but only a few heavy backed matching chairs, a big stone built in hearth off to the left with dancing flames that had a blue hue, there was counters and shelves lining the walls all off which like the tiled floor and thick table were cluttered with books, scrolls, herbs, objects, ointments, inkpots and quills and many other items that seemed to have no permanent home other than where they were thrown to gather dust and cobwebs.

"What are you two doing here hmmm? I have much work to do before the day is out! So get on with it!" she harshly urged them with a malicious tone and the wave of her skinny wrinkly arms with hanging skin that wagged as she did so. She had seemed to age so much in the time Natha had been away, which caused her to wonder how long she had exactly been away as no one in the village had seemed to recognise her neither which she noticed when she headed to the tavern about maid work and they had asked for her name. Which she was glad for, as all the horrible, sick, twisted things she had done to this village even if she does not remember them; must still be thick and raw in their hearts as they lost friends, family members, bakers, tailors and others, so in response to their question on her name she lied in order to keep the peace and not create an uproar.

"You have to get out, move far away! There is a mob forming up in the village and they want to hang you by your ankles and leave you for the crows!" Natha exclaimed rushing to the elderly woman but then around her and searching for bits and pieces that Wendrella will need or find useful on her journey to safety. Wendrella and Lan watched as Natha shook a bag of dust which caused her to cough, Wendrella in shock, Lan in admiration. _Such a wonderful soul, _he thought to himself, _but then again, she always was. _

"Why are you doing this?" Wendrella croaked, with ferocity replaced by sincerity the mature woman shuffled to a young woman who was many years her junior.

Natha stopped and glanced up, her eyes beaming with adrenaline as she rushed about but now forced to a halt, "didn't you hear me?" she said quietly, "they...are...going...to...kill...you," she placed an emphasis on each word that portrayed a statement that she was finding it hard to believe herself, as if she was trying to convince herself that the members of the village that she had known and cared for so long, people that she thought were nothing but good, honest people were now currently readying themselves to attack, pillage and kill an innocent old lady.

"Oh child...I'll never forget this," Wendrella touched her forehead with her bony thumb, then kissed it, then placed it on Natha's forehead again. "She has been asleep for some time my child, and I fear with all this stress she may once again make an appearance. I do not wish to be here when she does," she stated, Lan moved to stand beside the woman and peered down at her, he asked her why did he do such a thing to such a young girl. "Because a lesson needed to be taught, and a lesson was learnt. But that demon inside of you child is not the one I hoped to grant you. For that I gravely apologise for I have caused much grief, death and anguish. I just hope they did not hurt you too much child..." she raised her hands on shakey arms reaching to place her hands on Natha's cheeks, "and I hope that you will forgive me."

_1 month later..._

Once again Natha was all alone, but not in a cold cell with only rats and screams of mad men to keep her company. Instead she was at her home, the very home she shared with her father and the very home she and Lan had together rebuilt the simple, yet cosy foundation. Natha had advice Lan to travel with Wendrella as she was too old and frail to journey alone even if she had magic, and trek with her he did. He did so reluctantly, but in the end after begging from Natha he did. "This...will keep you together," Wendrella had said, at the same time she touched both their foreheads with her thumbs just before the duo rode off in the dead of night, however she did not explain what she had done. She had only told them both that they will learn over time.

Which she had, she felt a mental connection with Lan, unfortunately they couldn't speak but Natha knew roughly which direction he was, and whether or he getting closer or further away. At this point Lan was heading somewhere South away from her, she could feel both his mental and physical pain, she knew when he got angry, happy or sad. She found herself dreaming of him now, often it was as if she was watching him doing whatever he was doing at the time like sleeping or riding, but sometimes there were also dreams that brought them together where they talked and laughed liked they used too, sometimes even making love, it was always vivid and real and Natha always woke with flush cheeks of embarrassed whenever those dreams occurred as that sort of thing should be saved for the marital bed.

Natha was lying in her small bed even after being awake for almost an hour, she had woken up from one of those love making dreams again. Her cheeks were still heated and red but she still enjoyed the image of his naked form and wondered if her minds perceptions of him were true, from his broad, hard chest, to his well endowed hard sex and his large yet solid thighs and calves. She smiled lightly to herself despite her cheeks temperatures rising rapidly at those thoughts of him when a loud pounding on the front door bellowed through her small home. It sounded urgent so she practically jumped out bed and jogged to the door in her nightwear. She threw open the door to see two masked men, one only just a little taller than her at five feet three and the other stood at five foot nine. They were both wearing the same outfits of a patterned and embroidered white silk cloak with light grey tunics and breeches with red curled jewelled slippers.

Natha's expression was a confused one, _who are these guys?_ She thought, they bowed to her in sync and stepped in to her home and as they continued to step in she took steps back until her back slammed against the plain wall. The smaller one closed the door while the taller bowed again, this time Natha noticed a light brown box on his back, "good morning miss, do not be alarmed!" the taller one exclaimed, their masks were the same plain silver masks but carried different expressions, the taller one had that of a happy, grinning man, the smaller's mask showed the expression a bitter, frowning man. The smaller one stayed by the door as if he was guarding it while the taller took the box from his back and handed it to Natha as well as a letter that he received from the chest pocket on his tunic. "We come baring gifts and a message from the Lady Wendrella," Natha took the letter first and opened it, it read:

_Child, _

_I have so much to thank you for, for my life, my dignity and my honour. A written thank you is nothing in comparison to what you have done for me. Despite what I had done to you, I had taken years of your life, the years that should have been the happiest, wildest and properly the strangest of your life! Some would say I had also taken your father, for everything I am sorry. And now I have taken the man that loves you most. But fear not young one, he will return to you soon. Your fates will find each other again. _

_Inside of you child is an unnamed demon from the depths of hell, and believe me when I tell you it was not what I expected for you. It has been sleeping, I don't know if it has woken since I last saw you child but, to keep it from controlling you I have given you a mask. That demon will only wake when you put on that mask, but, you give it a mission and it will do it without hesitation It will protect you, your friends, and anything you desire if you place some trust within it. _

_Just think of it as a friend who is a rather aggressive and angry killer. _

_Also some swords for you child, brime it with them with sharpness, their shine and it will never leave you. _

_I originally tried to remove it but it has seemed to have become part of you now, accept it child. Accept the demon. So it may fully accept you. _

_Wendrella. _

There was a dark grey mask inside the box; it was basically three masks into one, the main side for her face had a calm, serene expression, the right and left masks covered the sides of her head, the right bore a joyful face whereas the left showed a destructive rage.

Three-Face. A killer that has made a living from killing. Three-Face. A champion name is the lands of Essos. Three-Face...was born.


	3. Escaping The Cage

**Review Replies: **

**Atiketook: Thank you :) **

**AngelofDeath6: Thank you so much! I am trying hard with this but I always make mistakes am waiting for a beta! I'll be uploading chapters as soon as I can with my busy lifestyle lol **

**Alexandra: Great! That's good news! Haha! I'm trying to differ this from most of the San/San here**

**A/N: Anyone wish to be a Beta for this story? As I have a tendency not to read through my writings properly so I miss most mistakes. Any volunteers? Haha. GRR Martin owns everything...well, his. R&R! **

**Chapter 3**

The figure in the dark tilted it's head before climbing down onto the bed like a cat. The light from the window lit up the figure, whoever it was had the body of a woman but the face of a monster. The metallic face appeared to be a demonic skull with frowning brows, high cheek bones with a lack of a nose and rectangular teeth plus two more faces on either side of the head but they were not as intimidating as they looked like ordinary metal masks but with different expressions. Sansa panicked and shrunk back against the headboard since her legs had failed her. This strange creature had an even stranger gauntlet on her left hand, it was the same dark metal as the face and it turned her hand into a set of sharp claws that tore at Sansa's silk sheets at first touch which made Sansa wonder how sharp they really were. But she wasn't planning on touching them herself to find out. The figure crawled along the bed, shoulder blades sticking out sharply with every move forward similar to a stalking feline.

The terrifying face got within inches to Sansa but she could not feel any hot breath coming from it's mouth, only a cold, chilling one and she could feel the creature's weight around her as it sat above her. The black eyes staring at her, never blinking and never straining. There was no sword strapped to the simple leather belt tied around the skinny waist of the creature, but instead was secured to her back. The sword was in a plain dark scabbard so the appearance of the sword remained unknown to Sansa. However what she could get from the scabbard was that it a stout sword for the length of maybe three quarters or even half the size of any normal sword she had seen. The scabbard may be smaller but it was much wider, over half the width of many others. The clawed hand came up; Sansa could make out pale slender fingers under the sharp metal and took note that the blades that curved over each finger were approximately three to four, maybe even five inches longer than the fingers beneath.

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the blades got closer to her face than the face of the monster. A quiet squeal came from between her lips but she readied herself, was this an assassin come to kill her? Sent by who? The Lannisters maybe. _Kill me, please, please kill me, but make it quick_, Sansa begged silently to herself within her own mind, but whoever this was she stopped and sat back only to climb off the bed. The blades on her clawed gauntlet shimmering in the moonlight, Sansa hesitantly opened one of her eyes when the weight of the other had disappeared. Sansa made a 'huh' sound and stared at the assassin who now stood by her window, scary face in hand. Surely it being a mask would have been obvious but in a sleepy and panicked state it seemed easy to miss.

The woman that stood there had her dark hair cut incredibly close to her scalp except the top of her head where the dark hair hung over slightly on the right side. Sansa had never seen anyone's hair in such a manner, let alone a woman's, actually, she had never seen a woman with so short hair before. "Get up..." the woman voiced simply, Sansa could barely see the woman's face, and she was mostly a silhouette as she stood with her back to the window that dimly lit the room with a dark grey light. Sansa did not know this woman but she did as she was told when the soft sounds light metal clicking each other from her clawed gauntlet reached her ears. The woman's strong accent reminded her of Shae, or of Arya's old dancing master Syrio Forel.

"Who are you?" Sansa mustered out more bravely as she stood barefooted on the bitter cold floor that sent somewhat painful shivers up her legs. Her white cotton nightdress did nothing to protect her from the icy cold air. Usually the air was quite warm and humid here in Kings Landing but when the sun set and the mood rose that heat was gone as if it was never there. Sansa could feel the gooseflesh prickling her skin, the kind that stung. Sansa took a deep breath and continued her brave streak, "if you are going to kill me, than just kill me. Get it over with." She dropped her head and pulled her fiery hair over her shoulder, her time for death has come, a moment that she has longed for, for so long and yet...she was terrified.

The woman only chuckled lightly, "I'm not here to kill you," the woman strode up to Sansa slowly, trying not to scare her further. "I'm here to save you," the short haired woman crossed Sansa's room and threw open her wardrobe and began to throw out all her dresses like they weren't good enough. Sansa only noticed now that the woman was incredibly short, maybe five foot? Five one? Or two? She was short even for a woman as even Sansa stood almost four inches higher, "where are your travel clothes? We have a long way to go," she spoke in a hurry as she rushed through Sansa's wardrobe picking out what would be suitable, "ugh! I give up!" she then swung around to meet Sansa who had moved beside the short woman. "I'll return for you tomorrow, when the night is full. Have your stuff ready, only things you need! You hear?" Sansa quietly nodded before asking for a name once more as this woman was yet to reveal her identity, "oh, sorry, I'm Natha and you are Sansa, correct?. You already met Three-Face. Don't worry, he won't hurt you," paused, rolling her eyes in thought, "unless you try to hurt us." Natha lightly pushed passed Sansa and headed to the window that Sansa only realised now to be open, which explains why the room was so much colder than usual. Natha nestled herself on the sill the way she had on the foot board, she looked out the window and gulped and blinked rapidly at the sight of the height as it made her uncomfortable. But she glanced back to Sansa, her eyes no longer the black they were when Sansa had seen them up close from behind the mask, "remember, be ready," and with that she put on the mask and her body language changed almost instantly, her body went rigid and confident on the ledge, the metal claws clinking together before she jumped out the window which caused Sansa to gasp loudly and run to the window since she was so high up.

But when Sansa search the floor below she could see no trance of the mysterious woman. So her gut told her to look up, she did so and there she was, Natha, or Three-Face was climbing the tower with ease, using window ledges and gaps within the rock. Before Sansa knew the figure of her saviour had disappeared. A smile began to grow on Sansa's lips and a relieved laugh flowed through her. It had been so long since she had laughed, even like this. She saw the guards below, completely oblivious to the foreigner scaling the tower before quickly shutting her window, throwing everything roughly back into chests or the wardrobe that Natha had got out and then running back into bed with a hopeful smile. But then a memory came to her, one that diminished her hope, she remembered when Dontos Hollard had met her in the Godswood and promised to take her from this awful place, Petyr Baelish had also made her such a promise, but neither of them had kept to said promise. Sansa could only hope that this one would not be the same as those.

_The next evening..._

Sansa was sat on the edge of her bed, playing with her hair nervously as she waited, as she had been doing since the sun had set. She was wearing one of the travelling gowns she had worn on her journey south from Winterfell, she had kept it hidden along with a couple others when most of them were taken from her. She had packed those gowns, underclothes, a cloak, a nightdress, a couple pairs of her sturdiest shoes and a number of woollen pads wrapped in cotton and sewed with silk for her monthly bloom. The cloak she wore was not her own, it was the white stained cloak left behind by a certain Clegane when he left, the same white cloak used to cover her dignity when she was publicly humiliated in the court. She wrapped it around herself tightly; a familiar scent raised it and filled her nostrils. After all this time it still smelled of him, still smelled of wine, blood and horse, a bitter yet sweet and comforting scent that seemed to soothe Sansa.

The window was opened before Sansa started her eager wait, her bags resting beside her on the bed she was ready to go; to go and leave this hell of a city and hopefully return home to her family. More hours passed and the night was in it's third hour of complete darkness, the thick clouds growing and restricting what little light came from the moon and stars. Sansa was growing tired and her hope was diminishing. Where is she? Where is Natha? Once again Sansa's hopes for escape were shattered and she threw herself back onto the bed with a sigh of desperation, her red hair flowing around her like a mane of wild fire. Her eyelids were growing heavy, she had grown tired of waiting so she closed her eyes. Just for a second, and then there it was...a shuffle on the window seal and tap of metal on glass. Sansa sat up and got to her feet so fast her head span and throbbed and all she could see was coloured blotches. "You came..." Sansa chirped reluctantly as she watched with an wary expression as the cat like persona climbed down from the window sill, clawed fingers scratching the glass. Sansa gulped, that is not the woman she had spoken too, but this was the creature that almost killed her.

The clawed hand rose gradually to the skull face, the mask of three sides and faces was removed and the face Sansa was so happy to meet was here once more, Natha only blinked at her though, not saying anything at all until Sansa repeated herself more confidently, "of course I came, I said I would and I have. A woman must always keep her promises child," she shook a sharp, bladed finger at her like some kind of life lesson teacher, but did so with a faint smile. "Are you ready?" she spoke as she glanced around, gaze stopping at the bagging waiting for a long anticipated journey. Natha went forward and picked them up, she threw two of them over her own back and chucked the other two at Sansa, motioning for her to the same. One of the bags did not hold her clothes or hygiene supplies, but instead carried foods and skins of water and wine that Shae had smuggled her earlier today specifically for the trip. The food consisted mostly of breads, cheeses and meats but Shae had also wrapped up some lemon cake and honeycomb, Sansa's favourites. "Believe me, you'll want to save them for a sad day," Shae had told her in her exotic way of speech.

"How will you get me out of the castle?" Sansa queried, "there are guards everywhere, most definitely at the gates," she was beginning to panic, what if this was some kind trick and this woman was going to take her to the malicious King Joffery instead of to safety? She began to back up, the bags heavy on her back as they hit against the wall.

"I have my ways, don't worry. I have been getting in and out of this place for a week and I have yet to be seen."

"A week?"

"Yes, I was noting which routes would be best to take you out," Natha answered and made her way to the window and caused Sansa to squeal about not going out that way which only caused Natha to laugh. "I don't like this way either, I hate heights," she laughed but she just closed the window and pointed to the door, "I'll be taking you that way. We only have ten more minute at best to reach the tunnels while the guards change over. There are no guards, which is why I came now," she rushed to the door and opened it silently, and waved her hand to hurry Sansa out. When Sansa was out Natha just as gently closed the door and grabbed Sansa by the arm to stop her as she started to walk, "listen to me, I must go now. But Three-Face will protect, he knows the where's and what's more than I, plus he'll kill without a moments thought if need be. Just, stick close," she nodded as she raised the mask to her face, before the mask completed the last several inches her final words were, "just don't annoy him."

That frightened Sansa to the core as she watched Three-Face rush through the hallways with herself in pursuit, staring at the clawed gauntlet and the scabbard and hilt strapped to her back. Did Natha call Three-Face a...a he? How was that even possible? Were they two people? How can a person be two genders? Surely ones gender is confirmed with by what's down below, right? So how can a person's gender change just by putting on a mask? Sansa made a mental note to ask Natha later when they safely away from Kings Landing. Before Sansa knew it they were out of the tower and down into tunnels under the city. Sansa tried so hard to keep up with Three-Face who effortlessly stalked the tunnels with the heavy bags upon his back while Sansa jogged awkwardly to keep up and kept fiddling with her bag straps as they kept falling from her shoulders but she daren't ask Three-Face for help as the last of Natha's words constantly echoed in her head.

Hours passed quickly after leaving the tunnels which led them far outside the city walls deep within a forest that promised shelter from searching eyes. The sun was now shining and Sansa lifted her chin to feel the sun's graceful heat upon her sweating face. They eventually came to what looked like a small camp, there were three horses tied to trees and a fire that was long out but still smoking lightly. Sansa eyed the horses when one began to pound the dirt with his dark hooves, he was a heavy, and an incredibly large, completely black courser with a handsome slick face but there was an unnerving heat in his eyes that made Sansa dare not to look. The second horse was a small but able courser mare who was a light shade of brown with white patches and darker brown mane and tail, she was grazing on the grass calmly, but now and again eyeing the much larger male who was kept at a distance from the other two. Now the third was a breed of horse that Sansa had only seen work on farms or down in the city pulling carts, it was a big dark brown shire with a black mane and tail and a white patch on his nose and white socks up to his thick, hairy ankles. There were a couple of bedrolls laid out in the camp along with the usual items you'll see at a simple camp like small pots and wooden plates, discarded clothes, tools and piles of fire wood. "Where in all of Westeros has that drunk gone?" came the feminine voice that Sansa missed. Sansa's head snapped in Natha's direction and noticed that the odd mask was settled on the floor by the saddle and bridle next to the shire along with her sword and clawed gauntlet. Natha was crouching low to the ground, her fingers lightly moving over the tampered dirt. Natha growled something in a language Sansa did not understand.

"What is it?" Sansa asks and Natha seemed to follow something to the edge of the clearing.

"That Dog is a drunken fool that's what. Got himself picked up it seems," she growls, after a minutes pause as she scanned the ground she rose and turned to Sansa with a sigh, "the tracks are fresh, so whoever has our companion would not have gotten too far."


	4. Brutality At Its Finest

**A/N: Now, this story is rated M for a reason, while most of you will probably be thinking that'll just be love scenes, well, this chapter will change that thought. Early warning, action scenes with Three-Face will be incredibly graphic and gruesome and this chapter will no doubt give you a taste of what Three-Face is capable of. Anyway, GRR Martins owns GoT blah blah blah you know all that! Enjoy! R&R! **

**From here on out the chapters will still be written in third person (except for thoughts and dreams which are first person) however the chapters will be given a name like in the SOIAF books which will hopefully give you more of a perspective of that character. With the situation of Natha and Three-Face both of their names or one will be titled depending on the content of the chapter since they share a body, such as if Natha will put on the mask to become Three-Face at some point in the chapter. Or Vice-Versa. **

**Review replies have been moved to the bottom of the chapter. **

**Warning: Won't be able to start on chapter 5 till after 11****March. **

**Chapter 4**

**Natha/Three-Face**

Natha rose from the tracks, ignoring Sansa for the time being as she thought on who might have bested the mighty Hound. Even a drunk one. With a heavy sigh she turned to face the young, copper haired beauty, but said nothing as she thought of the next step of their journey which undoubtedly involved rescuing The Hound, but the question was floating around Sansa's head. Whether it will be safer for Sansa to be dragged along in pursuit of the Hound's captors or to leave her all alone at camp in the middle of a forest, unarmed and untrained with only three horses to keep her company, one of which Natha could have sworn was hell-born. Natha eyeballed the girl, but so did Three-Face through her chocolate eyes, _'leave her here, hopefully she won't be here when we return'_ came the horrid, inhuman grating voice that was her mind's company, a voice that fortunately no one but her heard since Three-Face refused to speak out loud whenever he had control, however if he did, ears of those around him will be momentarily tortured by the hideous, beastly and always so mocking sound.

With an abrupt sigh Natha made her way to the big shire which she petted before honing her sword, clawed gauntlet again, but thankfully not placing the mask back on her face just yet. "Come on, quietly," Natha said in a hushed voice as she went off to follow the tracks. She had decided to outright ignore Three-Face's outrageous advice in leaving Sansa behind so she'll get picked up by only the Gods knew who, just like the burnt Clegane. Natha followed the tracks easily since the footprints were from heavy booted men and a lot of them, at some points along the way she caught glimpses of two trails side by side like the dragging of feet; however the boots that followed covered most of it. Out of the two Natha was strongest in tracking and woodland survival where Three-Face's expertise rested on weapons and slaughtering. Suddenly there was the sound of a snapping twig which caused Natha to roll her eyes before whispering over her shoulder, "I said be quiet, pretend you're following a stag. So watch you're footing," Natha could only grunt in response to Sansa' inaudible whimper which made Natha wish she had listened to Three-Face and left her at camp with a knife in her hand. After twenty short minutes of stalking through the woods they came to a small building that was bustling with unshaven, unwashed and ill-mannered men in simple boiled leather drinking the old tavern dry as they constantly fill clay mugs. She had to pull Sansa down as she approached and put her fingers to her lips indicating that neither of them should make a sound.

Natha watched the old tavern intently, trying not to move too much as all the men went into the tavern when a booming voice called out informing of a readied supper. Even Sansa knew not to speak until they were all completely inside, "who are they?" she asked with a shaky, quivering voice. Natha fingered the mask in her hands as she decided whether or not to put it on. But she decided against it and tied it to her belt with a bit of distressed and worn stripped leather. She had to be stealthy about this and find a way in and around the men to find the burnt Clegane. Natha had ignored Sansa's question as she was scanning the house, staring into the windows through the bushes but through all the windows she could see only merry men eating and drinking their fill forcing the young maidens that worked at the taverns to dance and sing or sit upon their lap while their master, an elderly, pot-bellied man was on show for all to see by the door on a spike going up through his arse and out his mouth. Natha couldn't make out any facial expressions as crows had plucked out his eyes first before turning to his flesh. Other beasts had had at him too, his gut hung open with what was left of his entrails dangling out from the dark red and black mass; the sight made her sick, she had no stomach for such things, only Three-Face did. But there were lives counting on her to be brave, the young gentle woman beside her and the much older, more brutish man that awaited rescue somewhere inside. "Natha...who are they?" Sansa was tugging on her sleeve trying to get her attention which she finally gave with a one worded answer.

"Brigands."

"Oh no, what are we going to do?" Sansa pried nervously, it was obvious she had never been in such a situation before as everything previous to her escape was handed to her on a silver platter.

"You...are going to do nothing and you are going to stay here. I'll sort this," with that Natha hurried across the small mud path between the trees and the old tavern and keeping low as she did so. Her hand kept grip on the mask just in case she was to run into any trouble. When she got to the wall she went flat back against it and started to shuffle round the building, ducking under the windows she knew weren't going to help her and risking a peek at the unknown ones, she rounded a corner and the second window on that side gave her what she wanted. She saw a dark, smelly room with strange tools and apparatus no doubt used for torture; she searched the room and found no guard but three figures on the floor all tied with their backs against each other. They had aged seed sacks on their heads but Natha knew straight away which one was Clegane since the other two were much smaller than he, though one was even more so whereas the other still bore height and width and some muscle but he was still no match for the giant against his back. Natha stood then once double, no triple checking for a guard inside and she tried to push up the window which worked after several minutes as the window hadn't been opened in some time it seemed. She tried to be as sneaky as she possibly could, trying to imitate the stories she has heard about the way Three-Face moved, about the way he managed to stay light as a feather on his feet and be as quiet as a mouse but still look dangerous and intimidating. Needless to say as Natha climbed through she failed and slipped from the window sill, scrapping her back with a curse.

She heard the captured gasp and wiggle and strain themselves, "shut the hell up!" she angrily called in a hushed, quiet tone. Using a clawed index she cut the ropes on Clegane and removed the sack and gag with the other, seeds falling about his head and getting tangled in his singed hair. He looked up at her, squinting with the sudden light, his scars had taken on a terrifying appearance with the angles of shadows and light. She helped him to his feet and Natha only glanced at the two on the floor who began to jerk and thrash around even more, the bigger of the taller falling flat on his back when his main support was suddenly gone.

"You have her?" he whispered as quietly as he could.

"Of course, I wouldn't be here otherwise," she looked towards him as he began to slowly find his weapons, "how drunk you must of been to get caught. By brigands! Untrained brigands that probably don't know the difference between a lance and spear," she argued, "you were supposed to be ready!" she sighed heavily as he only grunted in response, "if Sansa's put in danger again because of your drunken habits then you better swear to your bloody seven!" At the sound of the girls name the smaller of the two on the floor stopped and went quiet, Natha watched the smaller for a few moments before realising whoever that person was, was trying to get her over. Natha did and removed the sack but not the gag as she was shocked to find a girl with her brown hair roughly cut short just past her jaws.

"Another Stark bitch..." Clegane huffed as he finished strapping his great sword to his back, Natha's eyes could only widen in shock before she gathered herself and let the girl and her companion free. "Where's the girl?" Sandor stood before the window, waiting for information on Sansa Stark, his little bird.

"She's in a bush somewhere in that direction," she pointed wildly off to the right, "unless she's moved," she shrugged and looked to the girl that stood the same height as she as she spoke, wanting conformation on who exactly was waiting outside for them, "Sansa Stark, and you are another Stark?" she quirked, she wasn't familiar to these lands and that showed through her accent and her lack of knowledge of the famous great houses of Westeros.

"Arya Stark. Sansa is my sister. This is Gendry." She motioned to the taller fellow with her head as he rose, he wiped his hand on his leather breeches and outstretched it to Natha who only stared at it awkwardly as she lifted her hand that bore the claw gauntlet.

"I don't recommend shaking hands," she smirked.

"Get a move on. We haven't got all day..." came a deep gruff voice from the window that belonged to Sandor. Natha only rolled her eyes but she still urged the younger two on towards the window. Sandor climbed out first, his metal covered hand gripping the hilt of his two handed broad sword which he could hold with only one and made his way to the woods. Then it was Arya's turn to climb through, She did so with ease unlike Natha getting in. Next was Gendry who took some convincing to go before Natha, until she finally pushed him out and followed in pursuit of the other two. Natha had grip of the frame and as she lifted a leg to the sill the door opened and in walked four men who thankfully closed the door behind them.

Natha panicked and stayed still, hoping they wouldn't see her while Three-Face was screaming at her to get out or put on the mask. But alas Natha was blocking some of the daylight that came in through the window, giving the room an odd shape of light. When one noticed they all did and Natha moved from the window sill and pulled the mask from her hip as they unsheathed their swords or took grip of hatchets. A stunt man with three thick scars going diagonally down his face from left to right and catching his left eye that was no longer there, but he didn't wear an eye patch, instead the man preferred to keep his pink, raw mess of a scar where his eye used to be on show for all to see, it reminded Natha a little of Sandor and his burns; the man charged at her with a small sword but even without Three-Faces keen eye she could tell these men would be sloppy in a fight. But nevertheless she quickly tied on the mask which caused her to instantly change. Her eyes were a solid black and no sound came from her mouth, there were no pauses in motion, instead the female body flowed with the grace of a river yet the rigidness of a panther as the body lurched forward going between the man's arms and reaching up wards from below to his face with a clawed hand.

A metal nail dug into the remaining eye socket of the man while the others dug further and further into his head. Three-Face was smirking menacingly under the mask, though he knew none of them could see it. He could smell the coppery blood as it trailed down his fingers and the dying screams of the man was music to his ears before he finally went limp another of the men came forward to aid his friend before his sure demise. The second man raised a sword above his head, thinking Three-Face was too content on watching the soul and life leave the first. The second man abruptly stops and drops his sword at height as thick dark blood came gurgling and bubbling from his mouth. Three-Face released the first man and turned to the second who had Three-Face's sword buried upward entering through gut, on the inside the sword has sliced through the man's innards, the razor side had torn and ripped upon entry and broke his ribs as it passed through them. Blood gushed out of the large wound fifty-fold when Three-Face pulled the sword from him, dragging bone, flesh and organ along with it on the razor. Three-Face stared up at the last two men who stood motionless, Three-Face's head tilted as he weighed the men; they both looked frightened as both wagered in their heads that this was way more than they had bargained for. Three-Face was oddly quiet, not even a growl crossed the lips of the female body but oh...oh did he miss the sight, smell, feel and the sweet taste of blood. The third man mustered up the courage, his hands tightened around the handles on both of the rusted hatchets he carried which caused Three-Face to tilt the head the other way. Both of the remaining men were nervous and visibly tried to swallow hard lumps in their throats, the third man took slow steps, this hatchets in front of him at the ready and when he got close enough he began to slash at the air wildly with rusted metal, Three-Face only had to duck and spin around the man to drive his blow, which was his claw, straight through his back. Blood sprayed as Three-Face yanked out the man's spine just as the fourth and final man had changed his mind on the brawl and tried to escape but he tripped over a table leg and landed on his front. The third man flopped in heap of blood and fractured bones as the fourth tried to crawl to the door. But then suddenly he felt a weight on his backside, he turned his head and saw a petite foot pressing down on him with force he could never imagine, not even in his nightmares. The fourth man then realised he had dropped his short spear and thus had nothing to stab the leg that held him down, the leg that kept him from safety. Without any warning the man howled as Three-Face's sword sliced through his worn, thin travelling boots and cut open his Achilles Heel, but the man's howl did not last long as the sword met wood through the his lower back, the sword scraped the wood as Three-Face joyfully moved it along the man's back, splitting his torso and punctured vital organs, not stopping at the neck Three-Face continued and cut through the man's head, cutting him almost entirely in two. The man was long gone at this point, Three-Face kneeled in the large puddle of blood that will stain the floor black, and the puddles of the men were beginning to mix as Three-Face dug his non gauntleted hand deep within the corpse. He raised a dead but still warm heart to his face and sniffed it, the strong stench of death and blood caused a fire deep within to burn like a great furnace, he pushed as much as he could of the tongue he shared through the breathing whole near the mouth of the mask, granted it was only a little but was still enough to taste the smooth, slimy heart that kept nearly slipping between his fingers.

Three-Face was brought from his trance of bloodlust as he heard voices approach from outside, he reluctantly but quickly popped and dropped the heart and before running to the window and jumping through without even having to climb. Three-Face ran for the woods as quickly as the small woman's legs could carry him, which was still fast thanks to him. He ran through the woods and headed back to camp where the others were preparing to leave. When he arrived a high-pitched scream filled the air as Sansa saw her saviour covered in blood and bits of guts. Blood going all the way up his arm Three-Face felt tempted to lick but restrained himself unlike he did back in the dark room. Sandor had covered Sansa's mouth, cutting off her scream while Gendry and Arya stood wide eyed in disbelief. "This is a sight you all better get used to," Sandor informed them as he slowly moved his hand away from the ginger bitch's mouth.

"What happened?" Urged Arya, her thick, black brows coming together as she tried not to gag on the smell.

But no answer came from Three-Face who stood alone on the edge of camp, claws clicking together and hand tightening around hilt and the stink of death flooded the camp from the source. Minutes passed before Sandor spoke again, "don't waste your breath. He doesn't speak." He was finishing up saddling the horses and getting them ready to go, there were five people but only three horses. So some will have to share. "Take it off, let your other see what you've done," he grunted again to the still figure. Three-Face sheathed the sword but he did not want to take off the mask, not yet. Instead he wanted to sprint back to the tavern and slaughter them all and eat their hearts. But he couldn't, not without freeing his mouth which was impossible to do as Natha would return if he was to try. Natha was demanding him to remove the mask so they could carry on and he was glad that she couldn't share the delight and the thrill of the onslaught as she would remember none of it, for it was his memory and his alone. Only his to remember, and only his to enjoy. He did as his other told him to and removed the mask to return Natha to the existent world.

She went to tie the mask onto her belt again but only dropped it into the dirt as she caught a shocking sight of herself, blood was sprayed and splattered all up her, her breeches and boots were completely sticky and stained with blood while her gauntleted arm was covered all the way up to her elbow. She was shaking in fright as she stared at her hands, not entirely believing what Three-Face had done yet again. "Natha..." Sandor spoke as the others remained quiet; he came over and shook her forcefully to return her senses, "Natha! We have to go! Now!" Natha blinked and gasped, her breathing heavy as her ears caught the sound of yelling, angered and searching men. "On the horses! Gendry, Arya on the mare! Sansa you with me," Sandor turned and rushed them all to mount, Sandor helped Sansa onto Stranger who at first protested with stamping of dark hooves and whining but when Sandor roughly yanked the leather by the horse's face and gave him a stern gaze Stranger finally decided to gruffly allow the extra person. By this point Arya and Gendry were already on the mare and Natha watched them all first still in shock before quickly picking up her mask and tying it to her belt as she ran to her shire, Nina. She managed to mount quickly without any trouble and as soon as she had Sandor dug his boots into Stranger's flanks and he bolted, followed by Gendry and Arya on their unnamed horse and then Natha on Nina. They cantered for almost two hours before stopping a much lighter pace that was better for the horses who were all exhausted and breathing heavy, even Stranger. Nina was no warhorse, she was a workhorse so she galloped slower than the rest so when they slowed Nina still spent an extra couple of minutes catching up. Natha came in beside Arya and Gendry, Gendry sat in front and Arya on the back whereas on Stranger it was the other way, Sansa was nestled in front of a war-able giant all safe and tucked away from sight.

"What happened?" Arya started, her eyes moving constantly, "before I mean, back at the tavern," she finished. Natha could only shrug and reply with a simple don't know answer, as, in truth she did not know. She had no idea how Three-Face had massacred those men, only that he did, and most likely without hesitation nor mercy. "You must know something!" the young girl continued to meddle, but there was a glisten in her eyes that Natha thought strange, "I want to know."

"Curiosity killed the cat you know," Gendry spoke up with a half smirk, glancing over his shoulder at the little Stark girl who had hold of him. That received a light chuckle and nod from Natha.

Arya smiled and perked up, "I've killed cats. I used to chase them in Flea Bottom, just like Syrio told me too. Not very filling though, too scrawny," Natha grinned as she saw that Arya was looking up into the distance, no doubt daydreaming about proper food that she was used too.

"Mmmm, roasted cat, sweet apples and lemon cakes sound so divine m'lady," mocked Gendry, only to receive a pointy knee in his side and a moan not to call her that which only caused him to laugh at her sake. Arya grunted as his laughing only made her angrier but Natha laughed along with Gendry, finding comfort in having aid in to forget for was covered in the blood of men she involuntarily murdered. Amidst the laughter Natha glanced between what little saw of Sansa and Arya, the two sisters were yet to speak as Natha had not seen the two say one word to each other upon their reuniting. _What had happened to make them like this?_ She wondered, receiving the unwanted response, _a couple of puberty-ridden fucks. The pissy whores are no doubt bleeding. Let me make them bleed some more!_ Which of course Natha declined, strongly with just as much curses as she refused to let Three-Face get the better of her; she after all bribes him with sharp gifts such as the claws or the mask re-shape to his keep loyalty and obedience many years prior. Now, even though the two often argued about the most obvious, since he was a blood thirsty killer and she was not, they were still perfect together for she had skills he did not. Such as fishing, hunting and tracking and general outdoor survival which surprisingly he did not have, for the only survival skills was on the battlefield with a sword in hand and dead men under their boots.

Arya rolled her eyes and looked to Natha again, "where are we heading?" she asked, yearning for adventure while Sansa yearned for home.

"Across the sea, to my home in Braavos," Natha replied simply.

"Braavos?" she repeated excitedly, receiving a curt nod from Natha, "my dancing master was from there, Syrio Foral. I mentioned him earlier."

"Foral? _The_ Syrio Foral?" Natha raised a brow, putting much emphasis on the word 'the', a smirk tugging at her lips.

Arya nodded with a big grin yet Natha noted the twinge of sadness in the young girl's eyes, "yeah! You know of him?"

"Of course! There is barely anyone in the whole of Essos that doesn't know the name of mighty Borell!"

"Foral." Arya raised one brow, "do you even know him?"

"No."

**Review Replies: **

**AngelOfDeath6: We'll see how you do! Ha!**

**Midnightdawn67: Thank you! That has been my goal haha.**

**Werevampluvr: Woo! Natha will only get better (Hopefully), as well as Three-Face, they maybe one body but they are different people haha. Also! Don't worry; Sandor will be up very soon! **

**A/N Sorry for the wait! I hope you guys find it worth the wait! **


	5. Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 5

Sansa

Calm Before The Storm

Sansa had no knowledge she had drifted off into a dreamless sleep until Sandor had woke her from her deep slumber when he had carefully lifted her off of Stranger. Sansa's legs were weak as they wobbled when she tried to stand. She rubbed her tired, raw eyes with a pale, shaking hand as her head throbbed with an unbearable beat whenever she moved. Never before in her life had her mouth and lips been so dry and sore that she felt like she had eaten all the pure sand from the finest desert. Her fiery hair of the Tully's was dull, flat, tattered and so greasy it bore an unpleasant aroma with tight knots so close they pulled at her scalp causing it to be tender at the touch. She felt sweaty and disgusting, she felt as if she smelled as foul as the horses. Her thighs were sore from riding and sticky probably from the mixture of sweat and woman's blood, they kept grinding and rubbing against each other whenever she moved causing it to be sore. Her entire back ached and her spine was stiff due to being in the same position for a lengthy amount of time and needed to be clicked but she daren't, for the pain that would come with it, but Gendry told her it was wise to do so, that the relief afterwards would be worth it. She nearly slumped awkwardly to the soggy, muddy grass but was caught by a pair of large, strong and callused hands covered in dull clinking metal. "How are you feeling Little Bird? Gave us quite the scare," he emitted, Sansa's vision was still blurred as her eyes that had not yet fully adjusted to the light of the sun that peeked between thick grey clouds that threatened a storm.

She glanced up with squinted eyes that burned at the light, she was so confused and her mind felt groggy and as damp as the squishy ground beneath them. His scars did not seem to churn her stomach as much as they did back in Winterfell, when she had met him for the first time and whenever she had come across his brooding figure in dismay. Even at King's Landing when it became apparent to her that he was more of a knight than any of those lance yielding pretty boys who would beat her and rape her at a simple command of the demon boy-king, though she was glad the latter was not given; his scars and his words still terrified her and she often found herself remembering the day he called himself and her father Lord Eddard Stark a murderer. But then, on that day when she stared at them she found a kind of comfort within them as he grew into her ultimate saviour, her light in the darkest of places. When the power of unhindered sight returns to her, she glances around their surroundings to take in the scenery. They were no longer in the forest, but now they were deep within the plains that rolled with powerful hills and was dotted with random clusters of trees and extremely hefty boulders buried deep within the dirt after big flung at enemies in an ancient battle. Sansa wondered how many skeletons were still crushed beneath them. She spotted her companions setting up camp against a collection of huge grey boulders, the biggest being three times Sandor's height, and that above ground. Only the God's know how much is buried beneath. Arya's friend Gendry tended to the horses, all but Stranger who was sorted by Sandor himself as Stranger would have no other. Wait, three, four...five horses? "When did we get two more horses?" she asks to no one in particular forgetting Sandor's words almost instantly.

"When you nearly died," Arya spoke up as she helped Natha turn the boulders into useful shelter from the coming rain by digging further into the mud under a natural ridge on the rock and pinning the sheet of thick woollen cloth used under the saddles with sticks that looked too damp for fire wood. Sansa glanced at every one in turn in a state of confusion, she noticed that Sandor stayed close but remained rigid, her sister Arya couldn't even look at her, her friend stayed close to her but looked incredibly awkward while Natha was limping as she went about her tasks and was wearing different clothes too the blood stained ones from before. She looked like she had bad knee rather than the foot or the whole leg itself. What had happened? Last thing Sansa knew there were in the forest running from bandits...with three horses. Sansa shook her head in disarray, _am I dreaming?_ She thought, _this is so surreal, what's going on?_ As if Arya had heard her thoughts her younger sister continued, "you got sick, you went sleep one day and just didn't wake up," she snorted, clearly mad or upset about something but that only made Sansa baffled all the more. She thought they would be happy too finally be with each other again after all they were put through in the long time they were apart. They were both women grown, though Sansa did not know if Arya had flowered yet since she was now thirteen years old. Sansa wondered if Arya would bloom extremely late like she had, and wondered if the girl could cope being in such surroundings, and with a couple of men too boot.

Natha spoke then, adding on to what Arya had informed as she used a flint and steel set to create a spark on dry birch, twigs and dead leaves, "you had a fever Princess, a real bad one too. But the fever isn't what you need to be worried about, it was the bug your body was trying to destroy. Hence the fever," Natha looked exhausted, she had dark bags under those green eyes, her olive skin looked dry, tired and paler with a yellow twinge. Sansa noticed that when Natha began to fan the newborn flames a cut sliced through the lip and a small portion of the left ear was missing on the elder woman. Sansa asked about the bug and what it was but Natha only shrugged, "all I can tell you is that your body nearly killed itself trying to get rid of it. Your body decided all the energy you had was better used to fight the bug rather than wake you and live your day," she shrugged again as she blew on to the growing fire, "some black tea and honey should make you feel better, come, sit. Your still weak and need to rest. Gendry, can you please bring my bags over?" Gendry nodded and did as he was bid, "that's a good lad, cheers," Natha finished as Gendry handed the saddlebags over to the foreign woman. She removed a small pot along with ingredients to make the black tea and honey.

Minutes turned into hours as the dark clouds shifted onwards with the winds and changed shapes but that wind only brought on more threatening clouds that teased them, as the storm had not yet begun. Sansa's stomach felt settled after a few cups of black tea and honey. However, the first cup had made her gag and vomit, luckily though she managed to run out from under the boulder and away from camp. Natha said it was partly the taste, a taste that Sansa had to get acquainted with, but was mostly the so called 'herbal magic' aimed to force out the bad bacteria through her vomit and to settle the upset stomach. "Your welcome," Natha had said with a smirk even though Sansa had not said thank you. As they sat around the fire eating stale bread and surprisingly fried bacon, sausages and bowl of deer broth. They had gotten them from the same village they got the new horses from and had been saving them till Sansa was better so they could celebrate with some proper food. Nonetheless the other two women made the broth, after Sandor had retrieved the young buck as Gendry watched both and learned skills of hunting and cooking. Unfortunately for him it was followed by the cleaning up. Sansa noted that Arya and Natha had grown close since they had met, similar humours maybe, or maybe the same love for thrill and adventure.

But Sansa grew curious of some things and had to ask, "how do you know of all that about the fever?" she had waited for the food to go down and the conversation between those who enjoyed to converse with one another which consisted off Arya, Gendry and Natha to dwindle into a comforting silence. Natha was fumbling with her claw gauntlet as one of the claws had been chipped. She was trying to smooth it out and curve it with the rest of the claw so it wasn't useless with the flint she used earlier. Natha glanced in Sansa's direction briefly, before Sansa had spoken the only sound that could be heard was Natha working the flint and the breathing and movement of both human and horse.

Natha went back to concentrating on her claw after a few moments but she still spoke, though taking a few moments pauses to speak and look at her before returning her gaze to the deadly weapon Three-Face apparently used so well. "I saw a lot of it growing up. Though their conditions were a hell of a lot worse than this, most of the time they didn't survive," she shrugged, "nine time out of ten the survivors fever's had been left too burn through." Natha placed her claw gauntlet on the ground, watching it for a few moments in silence before sighing and glimpses back up to her with another shrug with a lack of energy, "just learn from experience I guess. That when you treat the fever, the bug thrives."

"Trust you to get sick," Arya scoffed as she lounged back against the rock with her arms folded over her still developing chest. Arya was still wearing her training uniform she wore for her dancing master back in King's Landing. Sansa wondered how Arya could stand wearing the same thing for so long, how long had it been? Almost two years. Arya couldn't even look at Sansa, for reasons Sansa knew nothing of. It wasn't her fault she had gotten sick, was it? Of course not. But this bitterness had occurred before Sansa remembered, and it seemed that hatred and anger that Arya felt towards her elder sister had only boiled in the years they had been apart. For the death of their sweet, honourable father no doubt, giving Arya a reason to not have grown out the petty childhood sister rivalry._ Oh father...it was all my fault. And she hates me for it_. Not that Sansa could blame her for it. Sansa had gone tale-telling straight to the Queen about her father's plan to leave King's Landing and return swiftly to Winterfell by boat. Though Sansa had been too lovestruck to listen and understand her father's pleas for them to leave. If only Sansa knew of Joffery's true nature then and there, but wait, how could she not? With the nasty business concerning the dire wolves she had witnessed Joffery torture the butcher's boy, try to kill Arya, her own little sister and then lied to king and demanded the blood of a dire, her own dire, good little Lady. _They're all right, I am a stupid little girl._ Sansa had been punishing herself for years, for her naïvety and brainless acts that led to the murder of her father, Septa Mordane, her father's soldiers and close friends of his and her own, and because of that a civil war had brewed with her eldest brother at it's face. The North rising up against the South. Sansa hated herself since the the day of reckoning, the day they locked her up her cage and slaughtered everyone who opposed them, and labelled the honourable Lord Eddard Stark a traitor.

It didn't take long for the camp to fall into silence as they curled up in their woollen cloaks and blankets in an attempt to comfortably and fight off the biting winds they weren't sheltered against from the rocks. But the rocks couldn't hid them from the cold. Sandor was taking first watch, he was half leaning against the boulder that hid them but mostly his body lay on the ground. Sansa watched him from where she lay close by -there was no one between the two- as he made sure the fire stayed lit as the brewing storm was ever closer. With bellowing thunder, shocking lightning and a bone-chilling wind that carried the scent of heavy rain. The nightmarish rain had not yet started, even Sansa could smell the difference in the air. She wondered when the Gods would reek the havoc upon the group. Minutes passed but she could not fall back to sleep. To Sansa those minutes felt like hours, so she sat up, completely giving up on the idea of sleep. Her mind and body had been asleep for so long it wasn't ready to sleep even more. Sandor gave her a raised brow and quietly spoke, "go to sleep Little Bird, your going to need it," he ordered softly, but Sansa did not comply. His voice seemed even deeper and gruff the quieter he spoke, reminding Sansa the way rocks sounded when you ground them together.

Sansa shook her head, "I've slept enough already," all went silent between the pair. No voice could be heard. Only the dancing flames that threatened to extinguish, the snoring and heavy breathing of the sleeping others, and the weather that made Sansa jumped in freight every time a loud crash of thunder came and tortured the otherwise untroubled, unsettled air. As moments passed the two glanced at each other awkwardly, always missing the other looking until Sansa finally spoke again, but trying hard to keep her voice down, and still. "I never had a chance to thank you..."

"For what?" he sneered as he interrupted her.

"For trying to save me at Blackwater, you came to free me but I refused," she watched him closely now, his grey eyes lifted from the flames somewhat gladly and became fixated on her. Though he said nothing, as if waiting for her to continue, so she did, "I wish I left with you ser."

"I am no ser," he grouch-fully put as he threw another stick into the fire.

Sansa's lips twitched and rose in to a tender smile, "I knew you would say such a thing," all those memories from King's Landing rushed through her, all those times where Sandor had protected her or gave her unorthodox advice. He, and Ser Arys Oakheart were the only ones that had been pleasant too her, held unprejudiced conversations with her – though Ser Arys Oakheart wasn't as daring as Sandor to defy the Crown's orders but Oakheart had left Kings Landing before Sandor did. Leaving her alone as she awaited her marriage to Tyrion Lannister to become consummated with a painful and unwanted bedding. But thankfully Natha and Three-Face had stole her from her tower before such a thing went forward. Before the rest of the Lannister's came to the conclusion that Tyrion refused to share her bed until she was ready. She frowned then, and shook her head at her own thoughts, "if only I had gone with you. I would been saved from so much sufferings, and a loveless marriage." Too her surprise he wasn't remotely shocked or wavered by the news when Sansa told him of her marriage. Did he somehow know? He probably heard it on his travels, as Sansa guessed it was the talk and the joke of all in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Aye, a loveless marriage. But to the best of the Lannisters," he shrugged as he fingered the pommel of his great sword that lay horizontal across his powerful, thick thighs.

Sansa could only quirk a slender, red brow at him, "I thought you hated the lot of them?"

Sandor shrugged, "I do, but you see, the Imp is the reason we're all here."


	6. Rising Storm

**AN: I'm so terribly sorry there was such a big gap after chapter four! But I had exams and then my laptop went kaput. Then it ended up me writing a paragraph or two after work before sleeping, hence why number five was so short, but I just wanted to get it to you. Figured you'd wanted long enough! I have one more exam, and then I am finished till September for University. Hopefully by then you'll have so many chapters! Anyway, on another note, I will be bringing in other characters both my own and Mister Martins, so it'll become more than a San/San, for instance I'm going to eventually bring in Daenarys, and even Jon. But the story will mainly be a San/San, and be warned this is most definitely AU. Which you'll just have to wait for later chapters of what will bestow our characters! **

**Chapter 6  
Sansa  
Rising Storm**

Sansa's mouth dropped a little at the news, her husband, Tyrion Lannister had an important part to play in her freedom? But Natha was the one who went to her in her tower and freed her from her prison in the capital. She freed her from her leash woven from golden chains, forever watched by the lions whose diamonds hid the corrupted madness in their eyes. So Natha has saved her, butatwhat cost? "What...what do you mean?" she stammered, she glanced over to the woman and then back to Sandor. Sansa edged closer to the much larger man so they would be able to keep their voices down so** as** not to wake the others, particularly Natha. Sansa pulled her greasy hair over her right shoulder and began running her fingers through it in an attempt to remove the knots that had formed in her fever induced sleep, she sniffed it and frowned, wishing she could bathe.

Sandor snickered a little, his lips curled as he spoke, revealing his broken teeth, "the imp paid Natha a handsome purse to get you out of the capital, and to find me," he grunted as he dropped another stick into the dancing flames, twitching and blinking, averting his eyes in reaction to the hiss and spit the fire gave him in response. He swallowed before continuing, "don't hold your breath on that one Little Bird. A glorified sellsword, if the fucking Lannisters were to discover her, they'd pay her weight in gold tenfold for you and your sister's return, and my head and balls in a sack," he hiccupped, he had been drinking more and more wine as their conversation deepened, which concerned Sansa. _Why must he always drink?_ Sansa winced at the sound and glanced over to the others to make sure once again that none had woken. This only made Sandor chuckle and roll his eyes, "oh Little Bird, always concerned**for** others," he laughed at her, telling her how she should only worry for number one, herself. After silence had fallen between them another time Sansa watched as the man who had brightened up her dreams drank from his wineskin, some of the dry red spilled out of his lips as it poured too quickly and he swallowed too slow. Sansa suddenly took the wineskin from him and received a glare from those chilling grey eyes, but she only stared back at him with her vivid ocean pools, she told him no more, she told him he had had enough. He grunted and mumbled something Sansa could not hear and she was afraid he would strike her and take the wineskin back, but he never did. She stared at the leaky wineskin on her lap, and asked where the foreign woman had found him, "Riverrun," he bluntly said, but when she gazed at him as she lifted the wineskin Sandor could do nothing but tell her more, "I was going to your brother. But that bitch there found me first. Drunk, **as**usual I was," he snorted and shook his head, "told me it was best I stayed clear of the capital. I wanted to get you myself Little Bird, but I had to agree me going back there..." he shook his head again as he paused, "is not a very good idea. Then when she was off being your...knight in shining armour I get dragged off by bandits, too drunk to fight off the cunts," he slumped more against the rock and watched Sansa who did not respond. Instead she silently handed the wineskin back to him.

She had expected him to drink more and when he raised it to his lips and stopped inches away, Sansa could only intently watch, "bugger that," he cursed as he threw down the wineskin. That brought a faint smile to Sansa's lips.

"Do you always drink to drown your sorrows?" she chirped, asking him a serious question.

But he only laughed at her once more, "silly, silly Little Bird, I drink 'cause I can. I drink 'cause I'm surrounded by things I'd rather not remember," he finished, looking over to Natha who lay the furthest from them, next to her was Arya with Gendry the closest.

Sansa blinked and looked down at her lap where her hands were fidgeting nervously, "you don't wish to remember me?" it was simple enough question, and well deserved. Sansa had thought that she and Sandor had a special connection that had sprouted in King's Landing. That he had liked her, had felt something for _her_, and had cared for _her_. But it was clear to her now that she had meant almost nothing to him, _why did he come to me during the battle? Offer to save me?_ Maybe his intention was to turn her into his own personal whore as he could no longer get the ones that Baelish provided following his abandonment and desertion of the crown on the battlefield, and rank and oath within the court. Though, had he taken any oaths?

Sandor blinked and turned his gaze back to her, "nigh, I did not mean you Little Bird, I only-" he was unexpectedly cut off by the sound of one of the others rising from their sleep and rushing off out of camp. It was Arya who had risen, which caused Gendry to stir and glance over the orange and yellow dancing flames at the two that remained awake with half lidded, groggy eyes. But before he laid back down he glanced over in the direction Arya had gone but did not follow. Instead he turned on his side, facing towards the empty space that Arya had occupied and Sansa wondered if he was going to wait for Arya to return from doing her private business before falling back to sleep. Though Sansa's mental inquiries were answered by the snoring that erupted from the dark haired lad's throat. The two glanced at each other, Sansa showing Sandor a light amused smile while Sandor showed her twitching burnt lips that gave hint to a smile. Sansa wondered if anything was going on between the two, they seemed to have a very push and pull relationship and neither one of them minded. She would insult or assault him and he would drive her to insult and assault, to Sansa it seemed strange but it worked for the pair. But there was no indication that anything romantic was going on, just a close friendship. But she could be wrong.

Arya came back then but stopped beside Natha instead of going back to her space. Arya gave Sansa a wicked look before crouching and shaking Natha from her slumber. Natha groaned and tried waving the girl away but Arya was persistent. Natha eventually rose with a rather grouchy expression plastered over her face, probably because before Natha had looked like she hadn't slept in days, and now when she finally was, she was being rudely awakened. Arya whispered in her ear and Natha nodded rising to her feet, "Sansa, come with us please," she mumbled so quietly which was followed by a hand over her mouth to hide a yawn. It was so quiet that Sansa had barely heard and only knew to go and follow when Sandor nudged her and pointed to where Natha and Arya were waiting for her. With a quick, worried look to Sandor before rising, she had to step over numerous items and walked around Gendry's sleeping form. The other two had already begun to walk off before Sansa joined them, they continued past the horses and stopped only when they were far enough away for the guys not to hear, even though one of them was fast asleep.

Natha still looked incredibly tired and Sansa noticed as she approached that the woman kept most of her weight on her good leg. Her short hair was scuffed and stood up slightly due to being unwashed and her running her hand through it, it was also a bit longer than Sansa remembered. While Natha looked exhausted, Arya looked slightly ashamed but tried to hide it behind folded arms and that all too familiar frown of hers but her cheeks were flushed from what little Sansa could see. "What's this about?" Sansa asked with concern, had she done something wrong? Sansa felt slightly dizzy and her legs still wobbled and threatened to give way, so she hoped they weren't out here for long.

"When was the last time you blossomed?" Natha asked while stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, her eyes were half lidded and Sansa was worried she'd collapse to the floor asleep any minute.

The question had taken Sansa by surprise, she blinked and thought about the answer, "erm...I don't know...er, when I was sick?" she shrugged, turning to her gaze to her younger sister, "why?" she finally asked.

"Well, the three of us are all females, it's a natural thing. Your sister has blossomed now as well-" Arya cut Natha off.

"I had it ages ago! Unlike Sansa I was in wild when it happened. Bet you had servants clean you up," Arya spat, a fire burning in her eyes.

But that only caused Natha to sigh, "don't mind her, she's just hormonal," she gave a slight half smirk that caused Arya to punch her in the arm.

Sansa nodded, "so is that why you have off with me?" that answers Sansa's earlier mental questions on why Arya had been the way she was with her. Sansa wished she wasn't, it had been so long since they had seen each other she thought that everything would be alright between the two of them. But that hadn't been the case. If anything Arya had been worse with her than usual. Was it just her hormones? Or was it because Arya hated the fact Sansa lived with servants and her handmaidens did practically everything for her? Like run her bath, help her dress, empty her chamber pot, brush her hair and bringing up her food. While Arya travelled the wilderness with Gendry, no doubt starving most of the time with nothing but the clothes on their back and nothing but Needle to protect them from the men in the woods who could do whatever they liked if they caught her. If only Arya knew what Sansa had gone through in Kings Landing, she may have had handmaidens but she was constantly terrified of being hurt which even her marriage to Tyrion couldn't save her from.

"Don't be stupid!" the youngest female snapped, "because of you Natha was nearly killed!" Sansa was shocked, what had happened when Sansa was sick? Natha didn't look even remotely surprised, in fact she looked slightly bored as her fatigue grew.

"Arya...it wasn't her fault. I forgot my mask, it was mine. It's not your sister's fault she got sick, we all get sick. Now apologise," Natha's voice was still and emotionless, it was the first time Sansa had heard this kind of tone from her. Sansa asked Natha what had happened, receiving a shrug from Natha and the switching of weight of feet by Arya. "I had to go into a small town, get some bits for you and for all of us. That's where I spotted a couple horses, won them in a gamble. But the men I played against didn't particularly like losing to a woman, so we got into a bit of brawl. Nothing major, bust up knee and lip, I'm fine," Natha shrugged her shoulders that then slumped and she yawned again, "god damn," she cursed as she did so. "Look that's not why we are out here, listen ladies. You are both women now, and back there are two men full of all kinds of testosterone..."

"What are you trying to say?" Arya exclaimed, cheeks reddening as she predicted where Natha was about to go. Sansa could only nod in agreement with Arya, did Natha really need to talk to them about this?

"You two might want to explore some new..." she rolled her hands, as if finding it hard to think of the next word to say, "feelings shall we say. Not emotional feelings, but..._below_ feelings..." Natha started but Arya groaned and said she didn't need to hear it before storming off back to camp with cheeks blazing red. Natha turned her gaze to Sansa, that bored, tired look still washed over her. Sansa wondered if the woman would be able to wake up at all tomorrow.

"I know what you're trying say, I've been told it many times before. I am married to Lord Tyrion," Sansa gave the woman a sad half smile and Natha nodded.

"I know, I'm guessing he bedded you," Natha said, yawning again afterwards. The woman had purple bags under her sculpted eyes that were half lidded. To Natha's surprise Sansa shook her head and informed her of what Tyrion had told her on their wedding day, of how he would not have sex with her, not until she was ready as he didn't want to push her into anything. Especially an act such as that with all its heart-breaking unpleasantries as the act continued with one she had no feelings for. Natha nodded and motioned towards the camp with her right hand as she covered her yawning mouth once again with the left. She's yawning so much, Sansa thought, she was worried that the woman would not be able to wake in the morning. "I don't know about you, but I really want to go back to sleep," with that Natha began heading back to the small camp under the rocks and Sansa followed in suit. By the time they reached the camp Arya had returned to her spot and was snoring softly with Gendry's hand unknowingly on her hip as they both lay beside each other on their sides. Then it was Sansa's turn to yawn and she stepped over the others to get back to her spot, by which point Natha had practically collapsed to the ground clumsily and fast asleep. It seemed the woman had fallen asleep before she had even laid down, that made Sansa giggle and she noticed that Sandor had a small twisted smile pulling at his lips at the sight.

"Why is she so tired?" Sansa asked, it was a simple enough question as she had never seen Natha so physically exhausted before.

"She spent a lot of day and nights caring for you little bird, now that you are alright however...she can sleep, and by the look of those clouds there's a storm coming. I think we'll be here till it stops tomorrow. Let her rest, we aren't in any rush," he spoke as she watched him glide the whetstone down his great sword. He gives her a quick glance and sighs at seeing the desperate, guilty expression on her face. "Little Bird it is not your fault, if she hadn't taken care of you, you would have died, and she would have as well.." The sound of the whetstone hissed along the steel, Sansa's vibrant blue eyes entranced by the smooth movement of Sandor's hand.

Sansa's brows furrowed, "why would she have died?" Sansa asked curiously, was she sick too?

"I would have killed her," was all he said.

**Next: Is Gregor finally tamed? **


	7. False

**Chapter 7  
Gregor  
False  
**

Gregor sat upon his great, thick bodied destrier in his full black armour with his yellow tunic decorated by the three black dogs of his house. His broad sword was strapped to his back, his crossbow strapped to his saddlebags. He and his unnamed horse had not moved from the top of the hill for almost an hour. He was gazing down at a small town while his band of Lannister soldiers sat around camp fires drinking mead and eating a buck down to the bone. Gregor dismounted and led the horse back, shoving the leather reins roughly into the hands of his squire who scurried away pulling the horse in tow when Gregor growled at him. His dark armour clanked together as he walked, his heavy armoured boots imprinting the dirt with every step. He walked towards one of the five camp fires but didn't join them instead he stalked past and disappeared into his tent. His scowling expression was unseen by the Lannister men because of the helmet that hid his entire face, the notorious helm of The Mountain that Rides. He wanted to go into the town but not as Gregor, as he had done with the last five or six places they had burnt to ground. He wanted to learn the faces and the names of those he was going to cut in two, as it only fuelled his sadistic thoughts more so. The surprised faces of townsfolk as they were cut down by a man they thought a friend brought a hard throbbing to his groin - leading him to rape as well as murder and pillage.

He removed his helmet and practically threw it to the ground beside him before calling for his squire in a thunderous roar of a shout. He didn't know the boy's name so called his title, "SQUIRE!" he called again, this time more brutish and the boy stumbled into the tent, fear written as clear over his face as it would on faces of the townsfolk in three days time. "Remove my armour! Quick now! Or I'll bend you over and fuck you bloody," he sneered. The squire didn't respond but moved faster to remove the heavy armour from The Mountain. The weight of the armour didn't matter to The Mountain, to him it was light, to him it was a way to keep up his strength and he couldn't understand why others thought it near impossible to wear or even carry. Squire struggled in carrying the armour plates away and when he dropped the chest plate Gregor grabbed the teenage boy by the scruff of the neck. The boy was blabbering about how he was sorry and wouldn't do it again, but Gregor only sneered, his hot breath stank of mutton and mead with hints of Milk of the Poppy; burning the nostrils of the Lannister squire boy, "do you have any idea how much this costs boy? When I return your ass is mine! Now fuck off! I'll do it myself!" Gregor pushed the squire boy out his tent, the boy fell to the dirt outside and scrambled to his feet as everyone that surrounded the tent ignored the goings on, knowing full well what would happen if they helped the boy.

It took almost half an hour for The Mountain to remove all his armour and leave the tent in just a pair of dark leather breeches and off-white, stained blouse leaving the brown cords undone as his chest was just too large for it to be done. He yelled for his horse and the same squire boy from before brought over the horse, never looking up at his master who would no doubt be defiling him later. Murdering his innocence as he had done to so many before, just like his last squire who had killed himself, unable to take Gregor's urges and the pain dealt to him any longer. Gregor snatched the reins from the boy and mounted the horse with fur as dark as his armour.

The town was coming in sight; Gregor could no longer hear the Lannister men gossiping around their fires for which he was glad. His migraine had begun to push against his temple, though dulled from the three mugs of Milk of the Poppy he had drunk before. He had found that releasing himself also helped dull the pain, more effective if he released his seed into a woman than into the air after working his sex with his hand. He reached the town to find the streets were mostly empty which was strange for him, as even at this time the streets were usually still buzzing with working people. He was leading his horse by the reins now, and he towered over everyone that dotted the streets. He stopped before a man that was carrying a crate aided by string on his back, "where is everyone?" Gregor asked gruffly. The man, whose wrinkles were clear as Gregor's headache and whose greying hair was thinning atop his head, pointed off the left. Gregor's gaze followed the direction of the man's finger to a theatre, lit by candle light and filled with the sounds of people enjoying their evening. Gregor forgot the man instantly, if he had not moved out of the way then Gregor would have bumped into him, which Gregor would have seen as the man's fault and he would quickly lose his head.

A stable boy came over to Gregor and offered to take his horse to the stables when he reached the theatre; it was a tall round building made of stone and wood. Gregor let go of the reins and went on through, though expecting to have to pay a small fee the man at the door simply shook his head and motioned him on through an archway that lead to the ruckus, which Gregor was not going to complain about. Inside there were people seated in rows upon rows of chairs that were raised as they went further back. There were balconies occupied by more people, who rose from the wooden chairs clapping and cheering as actors on the stage below came out to them and bowed. He had been too late and missed the reason for the gathering. His lip curled as the noise from the crowd hit his migraine hard and he felt he was going to shout, and then kill them all. _Not yet...not yet Mountain_, he thought with a tightened fist. He was about to leave when the crowd suddenly cheered even louder, he glanced back to the stage from where he stood in an archway that led to the exit and entrance. On stage a woman walked out and bowed, not curtsied, but bowed wide to the crowd and her fellow actors and actresses watched her, grinning and clapping along with the crowd. Her hair was as dark as his own crown of hair, though hers was tied up in a bun high at the back of her head with a mass of dark curls hanging loose from the bun, whereas his was cut close to his scalp. Her skin was smooth and pale, her face was naturally pretty with big glistening eyes and smiling lips that worked with a tight body and an average bust with a cleavage that can be seen by all due to the V-neckline of her pale dress which made the bulge grow in his breeches and making him feel slightly uncomfortable. When this town drops to its knees Gregor vowed that he would make her his long enough for him to empty his burden deep within her. Whether or not she wanted him, he would take her, and he would take her hard, and make her husband watch if she had one.

He watched as she bowed to the crowd and accepted their approval. Gregor watched her pale bosom bounce when she moved, he imagined squeezing them with one hand as his other had hold of her beautiful flowing hair or her hips that looked so delicate and easy to break. They were not child bearing hips. That told him she had never had a child before, she looked to be in her twenties, he was unsure about specifics but she was quite small, possibly five-one? Or even shorter than five foot. Gregor stood there sizing her up; he couldn't wait till he had her in his grip in a few days so he could do everything he wanted to soil that precious little body of hers. Another man came out and stood beside her, he was dressed in fine robes of a wealthy man and he put his arm around her shoulder. A twinge of hateful green jealously burned in Gregor's stomach, how he dare touch her. She wasn't his to touch. She belonged to Gregor. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed them. The man who was older than she with dark hair and greying temples addressed the crowd, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you all for coming to my niece's wonderful production. Spread the word! Let more see it! If you wish to see it again then the performance will be shown again tomorrow night!" the crowd responded to the man with claps and some more cheers. Gregor blinked as he watched them, the girl seemed to be glancing throughout the crowd but also nothing in particular. For a moment it seemed her gaze came upon him, her eyes were a pale blue he saw. But it seemed that she was looking right through him. Her gaze never stopped moving though, with a big pretty smile on those lips she was waving a tiny hand, one small enough to belong to a child. "For now however ladies and gentlemen I bid you farewell and good night!" The man linked his arm with his niece's and led her off the stage, and before a curtain was drawn the other actors followed in their make-up and costumes, some more vibrant and flamboyant than others. Some seemed very natural, very grey and dull while the rest wore bright colours and vivid make-up and powdered wings with strange braids and knots.

People began to rise from their seats and head towards the exits, some people stopped in front of him, awkwardly looking up at him but not daring to ask him to move in case he took it in the wrong manner. He raised a thick black brow at them and scoffed before turning on his heel and exiting the building the way he had come. The man who had motioned him inside earlier spoke to him, "if you wish to see the show sir, come back tomorrow evening at six," the man grinned at him and pointed to something behind him. Gregor had to move again as the people began to disperse. He looked to the wall and saw a painted poster on parchment nailed to the wall. The painting was of the woman who had drawn his attention, painted in the same simple, grey dress he had spotted her in, leaning back seductively against one of the other actors, a man with a patterned red coat but his face was clouded in shadow. One hand softly on the woman's neck and the other on her hip as he pressed against her, Gregor's jaw clenched tightly. The title was painted in a yellow-gold, 'The Darkest Heart – A Tale of Evil, Love and Death' below that were some names, the only female name given was 'Camilia Freyn' so he guessed that was her name. Her name appeared a second time next to 'writer'. _She wrote it and starred in it? Talented bitch_, he huffed but kept to himself.

He had been staring at the painted poster for a while it seemed as when he looked down to see who had bumped into him everyone else was gone and all was quiet. "Oh, pardon me sir," a scowl plastered his face as he glanced down, but his expression didn't diminish her apologetic smile. She was looking at his torso. There was a long haired black and white dog by her feet, though it's attention was elsewhere. "I'm so sorry..." she started, Gregor raised his hand for her to stop but she continued, "I didn't know you were there, you were so quiet," she continued, Gregor's upper lip curled and he noticed how she was still staring just above her eye line which was nowhere near his face. What was she looking at?

"Maybe you should be more careful," he grunted, trying to play it safe and calm. This was his game after all. Play it composed and peaceful until the three days were up, until everyone's blood was on his sword and her pussy around his cock. He felt a throb at the thought. Her smile grew into a grin with a chuckle of embarrassment. She turned her pale eyes higher but they still didn't seem focus, they still seemed to go right through him and not even on his face. Her dog barked at something it saw in the distance. The creature came just higher than her knee and had straight ears with flopping tips.

"I'm sorry, again sir, I...I didn't see you, or hear you I'm afraid," she shrugged. Gregor wondered how in all the seven hells could she not see him. He was huge!

"How could you miss me?" he snapped, his permanent hoarse voice sounded like rocks grating.

She hugged her arms and spoke with a smaller smile, more shy and embarrassed than before, "I cannot see anything ser, childhood illness left me blind, you see," she pointed to her eyes with an index finger. _Stupid..._her dog barked again, growling at something in the distance. Gregor looked over to see a man dragging a woman down an alleyway, one hand covering her yelling mouth, the other wrapped around her torso forcing her back. A half smile pulled on his lips; he imagined doing that to Camilia tonight, how sweet she would feel beneath him. How sweet her screams of pain and suffering would be to his ears. "Spooks, Spooks no..." she doubled over gripping the dog, Gregor couldn't help but peek at her positioned rump, and he felt his cock twitch and ache as it wanted out to fuck her. She was already bent over for him. All he had to do was take her. Right here, right now will suit him if not her, but then again that didn't matter to him. The only thing that mattered to him was him getting his release, and he liked it when they squirmed and screamed for freedom. Muffled cries could be heard from the alley not far from them, the rest of the streets were empty and quiet. Gregor's gaze was caught between Camilia's ass and the alley entrance that lead to where a man was undoubtedly raping a defenceless woman. "Oh no, that could have been me..." she murmured as if too herself. Gregor turned his attention to her face, reading her terrified and somewhat guilty expression.

"What do you mean?" Gregor asked with furrowed brows.

"If I hadn't bumped into you I would have gone past him before her. I may be blind but I'm not stupid, I know what has been going on. That man is a monster," she went down to her knees beside the dog and he watched her, taking occasional glances up at the alley _while you're down there..._ "Maybe it was fate I bumped into you ser. You standing there saved me from a monster," she smiled up at him, guessing where he was. _Monster that rapes..._he thought_, I am one of them. Fate hasn't saved you at all dumb bitch,_ he wanted to laugh at her stupidity but he kept it hidden along with his comments. Such things as that must be kept a secret until the plundering begins. "I think we should help her...or, you, I don't really know how much help I can be. I'd probably get in the way," she shrugged, her eyes pleading and if Gregor had any sense of humanity left - which he doesn't - he would run over there and deal with the problem and take care of the rapist for committing such crimes and creating fear. _Ha! I am one of those men..._the thought of another man putting his hands on Camilia and defiling her made his blood boil, the vein on his forehead was fit to burst and his headache only grew. She was his to touch! His to soil! No one else's!

"Alright, follow my footsteps till I say otherwise," Gregor's words surprised even him, but he continued to play this sham. He put an incredibly large hand on her bicep to help her up, he could laugh at the fact the width of his palm was only a couple inches smaller than the length of her bicep, and looked as if he could circle it four times. _Why is she so small?_ He pondered. He helped her up with a surprising tenderness, even if it was faked. Once she was on her feet and steady he headed toward the alley, Camilia walking a few steps behind with Spooks at her side. Gregor got to the end of the alley and told Camilia to stay there unseen from the inhabitants inside. The woman was face down in the dirt too scared to scream due to the knife by her throat. The man was above her, her skirts up and penetrating in and out of her grunting like a dog. He pictured himself there doing the exact same thing to Camilia. The man was balding, his clothes old and worn and he hadn't even noticed Gregor enter the alley until Gregor had pulled him off the helpless woman. Gregor pinned the man against the wall, had him by his wrists and he hit the hand hard against the wall till the man dropped his tiny weapon. The weapon was as small as the man's cock. His inferior size made Gregor feel a king. Gregor's hand went around his throat, getting tighter then looser, never getting tight enough to really cause the man any harm. Gregor heard the sound of pitter-patter of paws on the cobble stones as Spooks trotted down the alley and went over the woman who had still not moved from the ground, growling and snarling at the man Gregor had pinned. Camilia came down slowly, a hand running against the wall to help her and the other in front making sure she didn't bump into anything or anyone again this evening.

The man eyed Camilia and licked his lips, at the sight of this Gregor slammed his head into the wall, "don't you dare look at her!" he bellowed, causing Camilia to stop in her tracks. She was shaking slightly and scared as she couldn't see what was going on, Gregor figured. Spooks went to her and nipped her fingers, Gregor kept glancing at her to see what she was doing. She went down on all fours, _uuuugh can't wait,_ snarled a voice in his head. Camilia crawled along the alleyway floor not caring that her dress was getting soiled by dirt. Gregor noticed that it was a different dress to what she wore on stage and in the painting. The crying woman on the ground reached out to her, "Cam..." the woman muttered, reaching out for the friendly face. Camilia grabbed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

There was blood on the thighs of the woman, her dress still gathered up to her lower back and her under garments torn, bearing all. The man pinned looked at the stained pale thighs and gave a merciless smirk despite being pinned by a man many times his size. Gregor could see himself in his eyes_, is this how others saw me?_ A smaller voice asked, while the other, a more demanding a more dominate voice responded, _of course! You know they do, you know they all see you the same as this filth!_ The voice laughed in his head, causing the headache at his temple to worsen and that only blackened his mood. "What you going to do big man? Lock me up?" there was nothing in the man's eyes, nothing but hate and a sadistic happiness – something Gregor knew all too well.

Gregor lifted the man from the ground by his neck so their eyes were level and brought his face closer to his, Gregor wanted to feed off of his pain, off of his fear, and he found it. "No...I'm going to beat you to fucking death," Camilia was silent as she cradled the other woman's head in comfort, Spooks guarding them both. Camilia covered the woman's eyes but the woman pushed them away, she wanted to see her attacker die from a more painful beating than what he had given her. Gregor slammed his head against the stone wall again before dropping him to the ground, there was blood on the wall. The man's head was bleeding furiously as he tried to pull himself along the ground but was suddenly stopped when Gregor kicked him in the side. The man rolled over and Gregor slammed his heel down on the man's exposed cock that was thin, weedy and now flaccid. The man grunted and spat blood before Gregor was upon him like fleas on a rat. He clenched his fists and repeatedly punched the man as hard as he could left and right. With every punch the man's face got bloodier and bloodier and more broken and disfigured and it felt good, it was helping his anger to diminish. A vision of Sandor appeared and that only made Gregor hit with more force. When the life had left the man's eyes Gregor stood, looking over his shoulder at the women that were now standing. Camilia looked frightened whereas the other seemed to have more confidence and a little cruel smile from what she just saw happen to her attacker. "Thank you," was all she said before leaving the alley with a limp and a waddle and headed home as Gregor guessed.

Spooks growled at Gregor now as he took a few steps closer to Camilia, she raised her hand slightly, causing him to stop. "You...You beat that man to death..." she stammered, tears starting to form in her eyes, "why?" she asked, her brows going up and matched the worried expression her eyes gave, her body rigid and her fingers stiff by her sides.

"You saw..." he stopped, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. He had to choose his words more carefully, "you know what he was doing to her. He would have been executed anyway. Why let him live on this earth any longer and prolong the pain of his victims?" he could go on stage with this performance. The voice in his head laughed even more, causing his headache to grow from temples to the entire skull and made him wince, which Camilia heard.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" her voice was still quiet but a fraction of the confidence that had been there before had come back. She seemed more worried for him now rather than the dead man with his head caved in, getting brain matter and skull fragments all over the alley ground. Gregor shook his head and said he was fine, bit of a headache was what was wrong. Her lips twitched into a little smile though she was still on edge, "my papa suffered from migraines, drank this special tea from Essos. It helped him a lot actually," she shrugged, "he would drink a cup every morning and have another if he could feel one coming on. But after a couple weeks they got rarer. I think we still have some left, would you like to try it?" She talked as she began to walk, using the wall to help her again. Blood got on her hand as it slid down the wall, she stopped for a moment, her jaw clenching and her eyes widening for just a couple seconds before she continued. Gregor pulled lightly on her arm to help her round the beaten body and splattered mass that was once a head. "I didn't catch your name," she courteously said as he helped her, he was staring at the body and making sure she didn't step on anything.

"I didn't say it," he retorted with a bit of a scoff.

"When someone says that, that means they are politely asking for your name. Sounds less rude then 'oi, what's your name?'" she had put on a fake man voice for her imitation and that made Gregor chuckle and so did she.

"Jeck..." he started.

"Jeck?"

"Yeah, Jeck Snow."

"Ahhh, you're from the North?" she quirked her brow at him, and he gave her a tedious 'aye'. She shook her head and smiled lightly, gazing forward with those eyes that saw only darkness. Gregor had a different name for every place he was in, until he left and came back The Mountain That Rides, but right here, right now he was Jeck, a bastard, a northern bastard. "That explains why you're so strong and big," she commented with a swing, "just how big are you exactly? You know, since I can't see how big you are," she smirked. Gregor wondered if she had unholy thoughts in that pretty little head of hers, wondering what treasure lay in waiting in his breeches, kept at bay by a few mere leather cords. He would gladly show her, he would gladly take her down an alley like that man had done but only difference is he would rape her good and proper, make her scream from the penetration and the fear. His hard pulsing member could probably tear her in two, causing her to scream loud and high as he moved in and out. But he had to wait, _Soon Mountain...soon_.

"I don't remember, almost eight foot I believe," he answered. She laughed, turning her blind eyes up craning her neck in a mocking fashion. Gregor scowled, knowing full well she couldn't see it, _yes love, and I have a cock to match,_ his inner thoughts sneered.

**Next: Can Natha be trusted? **


	8. Friend or Foe?

**Chapter 8**

**Sansa**

**Friend or Foe?**

The group did not leave their camp under the rock for two days until Natha was fully rested, Sansa was feeling better and the raging storm that never seemed to stop had finally ceased. The clouds had finally passed and the sun was allowed to shine down upon them once more, yet the earth below the horses' hooves was soft and moist so they had to keep the horses moving so they wouldn't sink. A couple weeks went by and there had been no sign and another storm as the sun granted them heat and light. Sansa rode next to Sandor as Arya was still quite iffy with her as she blamed her for Natha nearly getting killed at the last town. Natha rode alongside Arya and Gendry who now had their own horses but with the glances Sansa saw between the pair she didn't know if they would rather share one, but Natha paid no attention to it. The trio were a few metres behind Sansa and Sandor. Sansa stole quick peeks at a straight-backed and silent Sandor, his snarling wolf helmet attached to his saddle along with the saddlebags that contained what little possessions he had and supplies to help them survive out there in the wilderness. Why wasn't he talking to her? He wouldn't even look her way. _What I have done?_ "Sandor..." a laugh erupted from behind the duo as Natha was laughing at Arya and Gendrys way of conversation yet again.

His deep grey eyes moved in their sockets to look at her but his head barely moved in her direction. Stranger easily edged on below him and snorted. "Hmmm?" was all Sandor answered with, has Sansa done something wrong again, to cause even Sandor to be against her? But Sansa had no recognition of such a thing. Instead of asking why everyone seemed to be against her, she pointed out the village ahead. Sandor pulled on Stranger's reins and caused the great beast to a halt, causing Sansa to stop but the others hadn't noticed until Sandor raised a fist.

Gendry shuffled in his saddle and leaned forward slightly to get a better look at the village. The village doesn't look big enough to hold a lord, it was a definitely a working village and had a small inn for travellers. "What's that?" Gendry settled himself back down on his saddle and Arya rolled her eyes at him.

"It's a village you idiot," she snorted. Sansa watched them both with an odd expression, she knew they were close friends and had been through a lot together but Sansa thought the pair had an odd way of showing their care for one another.

"I know that! The name of the place would be nice," Gendry retorted with that charming smirk and look at her younger sister. He really was quite handsome with features about him that screamed Baratheon – his dark hair, his height and strong build with bold yet a charming, fetching face. He was more of a similar age to Sansa then he was to Arya. Sansa imagined herself indulging in an affair with a bastard, how improper and rebellious that would be. This caused Sansa to blush as she looked away and turned her gaze upon the village ahead.

Natha brought her horse up between Sansa's and Sandor's, "that's Woodbury. I passed through it on the way to the capital. It's where I met up with this big mug," she motioned to Sandor with a pointed thumb on her normal hand. "We should stay there for the night, rest up, have a hot meal and a hot bath. Just what we need," she looked around, those who were Nathas junior looked enticed and excited at the thought of sleeping in a real bed without having to sleep with one eye open and scrubbing off the dirt they had been caked in for the past few weeks, well it was even longer for Arya and Gendry as they had no money at all and only the clothes on their backs until they joined them. But Natha's only senior, Sandor didn't look so excited, instead he scowled with a curled lip but didn't oppose as he stayed quiet. Arya asked what kind of people they were, as she and Gendry had a lot of trouble on the road concerning Lannister men, "no soldiers, just nice working people trying to get on with their lives with as little connection to this war as possible for as long as possible. Just the place we need." With a quick smile at them all Natha heeled her strong shire forward and headed towards the town with the others in pursuit. Sandor seemed more reluctant as he was having a hard place in trusting anywhere as he always did since his childhood which was tortured by this elder brother Gregor.

It didn't take them long to reach the village and when Natha and Sandor dismounted on the outskirts of Woodbury the others mimicked. Only she and Sandor had been here before and Sansa guessed the village folk would be wary or even openly frightened of armed strangers riding through on horseback with the war just down the Kingsroad. Sansa watched as they strolled through, Natha was greeting the locals with a nod of the head, a smile and sometimes a quick hello as they passed by. At first the locals had been curious and suspicious of the group, but now with Natha's reassurance the villagers are smiling at their newcomers as they continued on with their daily tasks. Sansa could smell a baker working; she turned her head to follow the smell of baking bread which caused a grumble in her stomach. The baker was kneading dough by the window but bread was cooking at the back of the bakery. They past a small forge that seemed to make more horseshoes and pitchforks then swords, arrows and lances, Gendry gazed in and nodded to the man as he worked on a pitchfork. Farmers were pulling carts or the reins of horses or oxen that pulled the cart for them that was filled with crops, cloth or animal dung.

They didn't stop through the wide streets till they got to the inn which was also a tavern with a sign out front naming the place, 'Maiden's Head' with a picture of young woman's decapitated head on a table, complete with blood and a satisfied, oddly relaxed expression on her face. Natha smirked at the sign, "never gets less amusing," before continuing on round the back of the building to the stables. Sansa looked up at the sign with a bewildered expression as she couldn't understand the joke in the sign. She thought of the other Maiden's Head, or virginity depending on ones lack of shame but couldn't understand why the sign was funny. She had seemed to be the only one as Sandor had shook his head at it, Natha chuckled and Arya and Gendry had looked at each other, then back at the sign before laughing, Gendry had said something in a hushed tone to Arya which received a slap on his arm in return, though with a grin. So even Arya understood, but Sansa didn't. She felt so innocently stupid she was ignorant to most things. Sandor had noticed her naive confusion, the unhurt side of the lip twitched into a faint smile as he paused leading Stranger on after the others. He had explained the meaning of the sign to Sansa, that the blood coming from the head represents the blood a woman will experience after losing her Maidens Head, hence the decapitation and the expression on her face. Sansa blushed as Sandor explained because if the nature of the topic as well as not being smart enough to work it out for herself. _Stupid girl. Stupid bird._

Sandor warned the adolescent boy with short orange hair, that reminded Sansa of the butcher's boy as he was complete with pale freckled skin and plump cheeks, of Strangers fierce temperament. Sansa glanced at Arya who no longer had a chirpy way about her as her fingers fiddled with Needle's hilt and she stared at Sandor with a sharp gaze that could kill. Sansa noticed that both Natha and Sandor were oblivious to Arya's sudden change in attitude as they were busy relieving their horses of their burdens. Sandor knew that Stranger would most likely kill or seriously injure the stable boy if he came too close as Stranger never failed to live up to his title as "a hell born steed" whereas Natha was picky when it came to her horse Nina and her belongings, especially the mask with three faces. "Arya come on, you can't do it. You know you can't," Gendry was pulling on her elbow slightly, trying to beckon her out quietly before she did something she would regret - but he didn't put any force upon her though Sansa knew he most definitely had a the strength to plus many other advantages. He was a Baratheon, born of a house known for their strength and might, even bastards such as he.

Sansa moved forward as Arya whipped out Needle in one quick and silent motion but before Sansa could do anything Gendry was already upon Arya. A hand around her wrist that led to an armed hand and his other around her mouth so she couldn't cry out. He was behind her and was taking control of the little wolf. The hand around Arya's wrist moved to her hand to pry open her scrawny fingers that grasped Needle, he removed the thin blade from her person easily before moving away from her and exiting the stables, knowing full well that Arya would follow despite her previous thoughts of poking Sandor full of holes, as he had Needle. The stable doors slammed shut behind them, frightening the horses and Sansa, and making the only light in the stable enter through small gaps between the wood. Needle seemed so insignificant in Gendry's hands as the blade was made for someone of Arya's size, which was half the size if not more than Gendry. Sansa thought that it definitely looked like a sewing needle now.

Natha and Sandor exited the stalls and searching for answers in Sansa as to why Arya and Gendry had stormed out the stable and why they were arguing outside, but Sansa remained quiet and gave a tight, small shrug of her shoulders as she didn't know what to do or say. "Hey! Why would you do that? He was right there! He killed Mycah! He needs to be punished! He's evil!" Came Aryas screeching voice, Sansa could hear the tears behind her screaming shouts. Arya and Micah had been good friends back then, and The Hound had cut him down like a wild animal. Both the females in the stables look to Sandor as he glowered, stated that he followed the orders given to him as The Hound, a worthless dog, by the now Queen Regent and the Bitch-boy King, who at the time, Sandor's loyalties were with in full, especially when it came to slaughtering something.

Gendry's voice answered Arya's, "I know! But do you really think killing him would bring Mycah back? If you did manage to kill him that is," this bastard boy from the streets of Flea Bottom was speaking to Arya, a highborn lady of House Stark of Winterfell as if they were equals. This surprised Sansa that one such as he would have the courage to talk in such a way to one so much higher then he, but on the other hand which didn't surprise Sansa all that much was that Arya didn't seem to mind, but instead encouraged this kind of behaviour. Equality. "He's not The Hound anymore, he's not loyal to the Lannister's anymore okay? Now...now he's just Sandor Clegane. A free man. Who may I add has saved our lives on multiple accounts since the deal with the bandits-"

Arya spoke over him, eventually cutting him off, "so you're saying I should just forgive and forget? Let him get away with murder and dance around the camp fire?"

Sansa looked up at Sandor who stood beside Natha with not a care of the conversation outside. Natha however was trying hard not laugh as she covered her mouth. Both the elders confused Sansa, Arya wanted Sandor dead and yet it did not faze him, not one bit - instead he leaned against a wooden stall post with his thick arms crossed and spat, looking disinterested in everything. Why wasn't he upset about this? That someone that he has been protecting wants to kill him. Sansa knew why he wasn't surprised, as he had killed Mycah, but he had been ordered too. Sansa voiced her confusion, "Why are you not bothered by this?" She asked as her red brows that had now over grown in some places furrowed together.

"Why should it? Most of the fucking Seven Kingdoms wants me dead and your wolf-bitch of a sister is the same. What of it?" He responded in a bored tone. Sansa didn't reply but instead continued to listen to the argument outside.

"- stupid. You do that and it will be the stupidest thing you'll ever do. We won't last two minutes without him-"

"With come this far!"

"And look where that got us. We were starving, got held captive by Lannister's, and then bandits. Robbed and beaten and you were-"

"Oh shut up! You never know when to keep your trap shut do you? I'm fine alright? I won't do anything," the shouting had ceased when Gendry had started on about how they were robbed, though Arya still had some volume until she said she was fine, but she still sounded grumpy and fed up. The trio in the barn continued to listen.

"You promise?"

"Seriously?" There was a pause, Sansa could do nothing but presume that Gendry had only nodded as when Arya continued she said this, "fine...I promise. Happy?"

"Yeah..." Gendry's voice seemed more spirited now, more uplifted so to speak. As it was the same as when he usually spoke to her now, "now come here." The couple outside fell quiet as no more words were said but instead silent actions that Sansa did not know. Are they together? Sansa wondered. She hoped they weren't, for the sake of the Stark family name. He was a bastard from the streets of Kings Landing, not a high born son of a lord with a real surname. But Sansa knew her little sister, she remembered when Arya used to say things like "I'd rather die then marry," or "pffft...I don't need a man." But truth be told Sansa has barely seen her little sister away from his side since they found each other.

The stable doors opened and there stood the duo with almost a foot between them, the trio looked towards them, Sandor was the first to speak. "Are you two quite finished? The stable is made of wood not fucking stone," Sandor huffed before he made his way forward. Sansa expected Arya to flinch when he got close, but instead she stood her ground, "I don't blame you. The boy was squishy..." He sneered through a smirk before continuing on to the inn and tavern. Natha raised her brow as she shook her head, Arya did not retaliate but instead remained silent and still while Gendry rested a hand on her shoulder. Sansa however went after him, picking up her torn and filthy skirts she tried to move quick to catch up with his long strides.

"Sandor! Sandor wait!" She called after him, he stopped when she was less than a step away causing her crash into his large frame. With a whelp she stumbled with eyes shut tight waiting for the ground to embrace her but it never did. Instead it was Sandor's arms loosely on her, his hands though firmly on her back. She blushed something fierce at their closeness, his jaw tightened as he straightened her up. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he glanced up from her to see the others exit the stables and slowly make their way forward, which Sansa saw when she peeked over her shoulder to see what he was looking at. She got his attention again, "why would you say something so cruel? She has been through enough as it is without you making it worse," her braveness surprised even her as the words just rolled off her tongue. "We have to live with each other now and you are making it bloody difficult for her to put up with you by saying such things. So I really think you should apologise to my little sister right now." so many times the eldest had watched the little one stand her ground against all foes, no matter how big. So now it was the eldest's turn as Arya had inspired Sansa. Even though her pale cheeks still burned as red and hot as hot coals her posture and words didn't waver or grow weak.

"Little Wolf..." He nodded his head to gesture to something behind Sansa, which caused her turn and saw Arya standing there staring unblinking in awe at her sister with the other two standing either side not sure how to react as they didn't know Sansa to be a proper manner reciting lady unlike Arya. Arya waved her hand and shook her head as Sandor gruffly continued, she says forget about everything, and lets go eat.

The group had paid for two rooms that were across the hall from one another, the guys in the room on the left from the stairs and the girls on the right. Hours had gone by and they all had eaten and bathed, except for Natha who was going after Sansa, who had just finished her bath. Sansa returned into her room where Arya was practising with Needle while reciting various names of people she wished to kill, some of whom Sansa knew very well and some she did not. Natha however was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Natha?" She queried, Arya paused her training and faced her, told her the elder woman had gone downstairs, but didn't say why. She noticed how after Sansa confronted Sandor Arya had been much better towards her as she no longer talked harshly towards her or complained about her to Gendry or made faces. "I'll go find her, tell her that the bath is ready," with that she left the room and Arya continued her practising of the Water Dance.

Sansa made her way across the hallway but stopped at the top if the stairs and leaned against the wall to eavesdrop as Natha was conversing with a blonde haired fellow whose appearance and attitude and glided sword at his hip did not match the peasant clothes he bore. Sansa remained quiet as she listened, wondering what Natha would be doing with this stranger. "Tywin said half now, and half when the job is done, no changes, no matter how much you claim to need." spoke the stranger with an accent that didn't resemble this part of Westoros. _Tywin? Job? Oh no! She's selling us out!_

"Tywin asked for the girls, yes? I have them both, as well as the deserter Hound and Robert's bastard son, who, I believe are wanted men yes? So laddie, the fee goes up. Give me all now and I'll expect the same once they are delivered. Got it? Cause I'm sure that Hound fellow will be a right royal thorn in the side of the lion paw when they take his precious Little Bird and her sister." _I can't believe she's betraying us like this! Sandor was right, she's just a sellsword that would stab us in the back the first chance she got!_

"The Hand will not be pleased about this." spoke the stranger which was joined by the sounded of the clang of coin purses.

"I don't care..." Was all Sansa heard before she slipped away, informing the guys to join them in the girls room for a chat where she informed them of Natha's betrayal.

**Next: Gregor or Jeck Snow may get a bit too comfortable. **

**Review Replies:**

AngelofDeath6 – You know now! Natha was almost killed because of Sansa and Arya is angry about that as Natha and Arya are beginning close friends plus, Arya was having lady problems! 

**Guest – Thank you so much! Reviews like this are always appreciated! **

**Magnus374 – Thank you! I really try to keep my stories different from the others. And this tale will only get more different! In a good way though! **

**Magnus374 – Yes, of course! But it is Gregor! He has to has to have those creepy and psychopathic thoughts and whatnot. Or it wouldn't be Gregor! **


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